#it's so crazy how much I love humanity it is truly crazy wisdom

[kittyit]

I go on the internet. I digitally pace for 15 minutes. I sense the enormity of the world. I rapidly check on mavericks of seven different insular extremist subcultures. I love humanity

#it's so crazy how much I love humanity it is truly crazy wisdom

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 214: Cursed Womb Under Heaven, part 6—Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna Daddy Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna

Blessed / Cursed JJK-Sunday! Pick your poison...

I hate (affectionate) Sukuna because... well... this whole Megumi thing is so weird. Like... what is going on with the hair?

And yet I am a massive Sukuna simp (questionable) because... well.. this whole conversation with Yuji...

Like Sir. Yes, I will dedicate my life’s work to spreading the gospel of Sukuna to all who will listen. Ura Ume can cook, I can be your Marketing person and do your social media if that’s what you’re into. 

I LOVE a character twisted by his own humanity. Yeeeessss...

More, please!

There’s more of me “yeeeeeeeeeesssss”+ing and promoting Sukunaism under the cut.

yeeeeeeeeeeeesssssss.....

The King of Curses

I am perhaps projecting, but there’s something definitively very regal about Sukuna and the way he carries himself in an embodied state. 

I also loved that there is also something very benevolent about the look in Sukuna’s face as he speaks with Yuji about the nature of suffering for weaker beings.

Almost like “oh you poor thing, you really thought you were just going to be handed your cake and get to eat it too, didn’t you?”

And I am VERY consciously choosing to use the word benevolent to describe Sukuna because... there is something inherently twisted and yet, extremely real, in the message that Sukuna embodies.

Almost like he’s doing Yuji a favor by enlightening him on the root cause of his suffering.

YES! yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes YES!

Am I like a crazy person for loving Sukuna so much?

And there’s something so fascinating here about how, despite dropping deep truths about the human condition, Sukuna is literally the epitome of all that is cursed, a sort of container for all that is inherently wrong about humanity--to the point that you can’t even think of him as human, but rather, as inhuman.

But... really... what does it mean to be a human, what does it mean to be a curse, and where do we draw the line?

Are curses truly the sole source of suffering as Spooks asks? 

After all... are curses not the result of negative human emotion?

Are we, as humans, not responsible for their existence?

You see, I became a cursed spirit apologist the moment Yuta kissed a cockroach. This forced me to start questioning what is good and what is evil.

The marriage of Heaven and Hell

Now... I am not asking for Sukuna to not be thought of as evil. 

I am asking for a wider, more profound interpretation of evil. One that is not colored by the Western, white-washed, Judeo-Christian idea of the figure of Satan as a red horned creature that is evil for the sake of evil and makes people do evil #things.

I am asking for you to leave your pre-conceptions of evil at the door...

What if perhaps we saw Satan as Lucifer, the harbinger of light who was thrown out of Heaven for challenging the status quo and daring to seek enlightenment through embodiment?

What if we saw evil as as a corruption and degeneration of all that is good and humane--a sort of rejection of one expression of the self in favor of the trappings of self-gratification and self-identification?

What if we asked how Sukuna’s degenerated and corrupted humanity is an embracing and transcendence of suffering as not just inherent to the human condition, but a precursor of psychological and psychospiritual growth and development?

What if evil was a choice made in favor of the self and that is why Satan was cast out of Heaven? 

What if evil was just trying to re-affirm the sense of self, and that is why Sukuna has chosen ego as his path of enlightenment?

After all...

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.”

When Gege introduced Jacob’s Ladder in chapter 213...

... he introduced one hell pun intended of a rabbit hole. One that I am not quite ready to talk about in great detail because I am unsure on how the symbols will be explored, or let’s be real here, whether they will get explored at all.

But with this tiny panel, Gege basically introduced the “upper” extreme of a metaphorical experience of psychospiritual growth depicted in the shape of a ladder. At the lower end of said ladder is the experience of descent into hell that is depicted in stories like Dante’s Divine Comedy.

Now. The interesting bit about Jacob’s Ladder getting mentioned, is that Gege added a neat little detail that is easy to miss unless you know what you’re looking for:

That is: Urizen’s Architect’s compass.

Now, for context, the painting above is a painting by William Blake, who perhaps not so coincidentally, also has a painting titled Jacob’s Ladder.

The painting is, indeed, inspired by the Biblical depiction of Jacob’s dream found in Genesis 28:10-17.

Again, the rabbit hole runs deep.

What I’ll say about this for now is that Gege might be using these symbols to present Sukuna as a character that personifies a sense of self that is beyond logic and reason where...

Good = logic bound by reason, and

Evil = imagination free from reason.

I still haven’t made up my mind about it because Gege is being a bit inconsistent with symbols, so we’ll have to wait to confirm.

But in a nutshell, this feels like a murky exploration of the sense of self and where it stands in relation to the question of “good and evil” or as Blake calls it “the marriage of Heaven and Hell”.

So if Gege is using William Blake’s philosophy then... I can’t help but see Sukuna as a character who has become enlightened through becoming entangled in the trappings of ego. Which is a nice dichotomy to how enlightenment is thought to be about transcending and leaving behind ego attachments.

But not Sukuna. 

Sukuna is about experiencing the highest of highs and the lowest of lows of the human experience. 

Logic be damned.

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom”.

In other words, Sukuna strikes me as being about willingly and consciously embracing the suffering that is inherent to the human condition, and growing in strength because of it.

After all, you cannot know pleasure without first having known pain, and you cannot know pain if you have not known pleasure. In Blake’s words, "without contraries is no progression.”

Quick detour here to expand on these panels above... Explaining the sense of self is not easy.

What I can say right now is that the sense of self is the result of the ego-self negotiating with reality as it presents to you compared to your expectations and hopes for your reality.

In the words of Westworld’s Robert Ford:

"...the thing that led... to... awakening [is] suffering. The pain that the world is not as you want it to be.”

Similarly, Westworld’s Man in Black tells us that

“When you are suffering, that’s when you are most real.”

Which is another way of saying that there is strength and transformation to be found in suffering and that turning away from suffering is what weak minded people would do according to the gospel of Sukuna.

Or basically, when life hands you the lemons, you make margaritas with them although I highly recommend you use limes instead of lemons and might I also recommend Mezcal instead of Tequila for a nice smokey twist on everybody’s favorite Mexican cocktail.

Suffering is an inherent aspect of the human condition after all. You either develop the mental fortitude to keep moving forward, or, in Sukuna’s view, you remain weak, defeated by your fate. 

And what’s interesting here is that Yuji has a very infantile unwillingness to see suffering as an inherent aspect of human existence.

Or as Spooks reminds us all, it’s not just curses that cause suffering.

So to me, Sukuna’s philosophy is about overwhelming strength as a result of self-gratification. He is the kind of character who will put himself through hell for the sake of acquiring strength. 

This is where Jacob’s Ladder becomes relevant, because in Blake’s philosophy, the Angels who are “good”, could only see ego attachment (which is a metaphor for hell) as suffering. As such, they could not comprehend why anyone would put themselves through hell for the sake of self development.

In other words, Sukuna is an exploration on hedonism and all that can be considered sinful if only because the ego’s attachment to pleasure is at the root of suffering.

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom”.

A different execution of this trope is another one of my blorbos, Twelve, from Watanabe’s Terror in Resonance (Zankyou no Terror). 

Twelve is the kind of character who wants to have certain experiences and will, at the expense of his better judgment and other people, force certain experiences to happen just because he wants to have them. In fact, he doesn’t stop to think about consequences, he just acts for the sake of experiencing.

Whether these experiences cause pain and suffering or joy and happiness, does not matter. The point is to have the experience because the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.

For those of us who are crazy enough to be romantically inclined, it’s like the experience of falling in love while fearing rejection, but still choosing love. 

Logic be damned.

But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? If you held back from the moments when you are invited to come alive every single time that you saw suffering in the horizon, would you cower from those experiences?

Or would you embrace them for the sake of self development?

Similarly, Sukuna who exists only for his own pleasure, is an example of how the ego is shaped and transformed through experience. 

In Sukuna’s case, experience can come in the shape of fights and women and whatever will satiate the appetite of an ego hungry for embodied experience... 

Hedonism, the pursuit of pleasure and sensual self-indulgence.

But I want to think that Sukuna also understands that you cannot forsake suffering, especially if you are in the pursuit of the better things that life has to offer. 

There isn’t one without the other after all.

If you want to be happy, you have to be willing to suffer for that happiness. 

You can’t know what wealth is unless you have known poverty. 

You can’t know great love unless you have known heartbreak.

"Without Contraries is no progression.”

To reject this principle of human existence is, in Sukuna’s gospel, to be weak, to be prey to those who will consume anything and everything that is standing in the way of their hungry, insatiable ego.

God I love Jujutsu Kaisen...

Splat

Well, that was two *splat* moments in one month and I have to admit they are both just as brutal.

Anyways. This was an interesting chapter from a translator’s pov because there were subtle messages that may or may not have gotten lost in translation. 

So just a heads up I kind of stuck to the fan translation for the most part for that very same reason.

Yuji and Megumi vs. Sukuna

Ok but to wrap things up... 

I love that Sukuna is always impressed by Megumi...

THAT’S MY BOY!!!!!!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!

And I also love that Sukuna underestimates Yuji...

Yuji is by far one of my absolute favorite mcs in Shonen. He embodies the characteristics of your typical Shonen mc and then re-defines them in a way that is very uniquely Yuji.

Anyways, sigh of relief about Megumi. I can stop holding my breath FOR THE TIME BEING!!!!

It’s not that I don’t trust that Megumi has what it takes, the one I don’t trust is the cursed cat.

Can’t wait to see these two beautiful boys fight together. 

Happy Jujutsu Kaisen Sunday and thank you for joining me again this week in this hell pun intended of a roller coaster. 

#god I love jujutsu kaisen #jjk ch 214

[itsmeautumn]

9 months postpartum. Let's talk about it.

9 months.

9 months have both dragged on and flown by at the same time.

9 months ago I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl. To say it has been all rainbows and daisies would be a lie. The whole postpartum thing is no joke.

I cried. A lot. For months.

For three months I just cried and robotically took care of my newborn daughter. I was counting down the days until she would be just a little older and I could have a break from the feeding on demand.

I had a postpartum visit over zoom 4 weeks after giving birth and was told I was physically able to do anything I want. You can’t say that for certain over a video call.

3 1/2 months in I realized I was in shock. I only started to notice, because my daughter started sleeping a little more so I had time to think a little. I felt like breastfeeding was a chore and I did not have this amazing bonding experience with it that I have heard others have.

I always made sure, to be honest out loud about how I was feeling because I know it’s not always safe to keep it bottled up.

I tried to seek help. My OB told me it sounds like I had PTSD/trauma from birth and I should find a therapist but didn’t offer to help. I called the Postpartum Support International hotline. I contacted 4 therapists’ offices and was ghosted by all of them. Yes, ghosted. They would let me know they were in-network, ask if I wanted to schedule, then never respond to my emails, Facebook messages, or voicemails.

I felt like I was screaming and no one gave a shit.

When my daughter was about 5 months, I finally found a therapist. Therapy was pointless. At least with my therapist. I could have worked through my experience better with my friends and a glass of wine. For 2 months she only asked questions, and never helped me fix how I was reacting to things, or helping me understand what was going on.

At 7 months I went to see my primary doctor and only then did I get someone to care about what was happening. I was given depression medicine and a list of therapists that specialized in birth trauma.

I’m now 9 months postpartum and I feel like I’m on the other side of things now. Only because a doctor finally listened and helped me after months of trying.

I say all of this because what moms have been screaming for years seems to be true of my journey.

No one cares about us.

The thought crossed my mind to leave for 2 weeks. So I could comprehend what just happened. I thought I would come back and not feel like anything was a chore. I just needed to be alone and work through it all so I could come back and be at my best. I know that’s not a good sign, that’s why I got help.

Therapy didn’t work for me, but I am hopeful I will find a therapist that will. I feel so much more at peace now. The medicine has truly helped. I still am not a big fan of breastfeeding and I’m convinced it’s because of how I started the journey, and again, I’m confident I will not feel that way in the future if I have more kids of my own.

My daughter is the cutest little human ever and I love being with her and watching her learn, grow, and gain her personality. These past 9 months have been crazy and I am looking forward to what the rest of this parenting journey has in store for me.

If you have a mom in your life, make sure to ask how she’s doing, and listen. Sometimes saying that “you will miss this one day” really is not the right thing to say to someone who really isn’t enjoying a certain stage. It only makes them feel like crap for not enjoying it at all.

My 9 months of parenting wisdom:

It’s ok to not enjoy every stage.

Reach out to people for help and don’t stop until someone listens to you.

Say yes to the medicine.

Postpartum Support International is extremely helpful.

Taking a shower is not self-care it’s basic hygiene. You need both, you’re not being selfish.

Screaming into a pillow can be therapeutic.

You’re doing amazing.

-AutumnLynne

[tearsofgrace]

endings are hard... but they aren’t impossible

tldr; the good place fucking nailed the finale, supernatural completely and utterly bombed it.

tags: wc--4.5k, gif heavy, spn meta, the good place, supernatural finale, spn wank, all gifs are mine, if you read til the end there’s a pretty gif

so i recently finished the good place (i was watching w my family and we finally had time to sit down and watch the last season) and god fucking dammit that ending is FLAWLESS. literally flawless. 

and because i’m, well, me… i spent most of the time during that hour long finale thinking about how supernatural could have had even a fraction of that and avoided so much heartbreak. 

anyways. i decided to compare them. to REALLY compare them. to get into the nitty gritty of why the fuck the good place ending left me feeling, as the finale is all about, sated and complete. and why the spn ending left me confused, lost, broken, betrayed, unable to even enjoy my comfort show at all until a dear friend finally just watched an episode (8.08) start to finish with me. 

so without further ado (always wanted to say that) here’s the good place/supernatural finale meta that no one asked for

comedy

we’ll start small. both these shows have excellent comedy. in extremely different ways… but still

in the good place finale, the comedy was perfect. whether it was jason reappearing in the forest, michael trying to get through The Door, tahani reversing the “hot bod” bit on eleanor, every comedic moment was actually pretty emotional and added something to the show. they deepened characters’ meanings, added to their relationships, and made the audience think as much as they made the audience laugh.

in the spn finale… the comedy was the pie gag. the whole sam shoving pie into dean’s face. beyond this being… like meta as hell (the whole prank thing) it doesn’t have any depth to it.

and to add salt to the wound, this “hilarious” thing happens RIGHT AFTER salmondean have a conversation about missing jack and cas that is equal parts flat and infuriating. the brothers, in particular sam about jack and dean about cas, should care more. this is their family. and family is everything to them. but, no, by all means pie dean in the face.

last lines

this one IRKS me. okay. 

the last line of the good place  "I'll say this to you, my friend, with all the love in my heart and all the wisdom of the universe: Take it sleazy.” “All right.”  is ICONIC. okay?

it’s a reference to season 1 that doesn’t feel fan-servicey. it’s kinda honestly emotional cuz it’s like a message to us, the audience. it perfectly completes michael’s arc. it captures the light-hearted vibe of the show while also somehow managing to be poignant. you can see it coming like the second before it happens but it’s also not the obvious choice. it’s just. goddamn it’s good.

the last line of supernatural…. is… “and cut.” not even said by one of j2. i mean i know it’s a meta show but COME ON ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??????????

now i hear you shouting wait but that’s just the end of the thank you message. okay fine whatever. in that case the last lines are “Hey, Sammy.” “Dean.” (i couldn’t bring myself to gif that moment)

i’m sorry but. that’s predictable. that’s obvious. that’s boring. that’s flat. sure, it celebrates the bond between the brothers. but like… that’s not what this show is about anymore. it’s not just about sam and dean winchester it’s about what they’ve created. it’s about the world they’ve saved, the family they’ve made, about how they always keep fighting but nope we get bland, boring, coulda seen ‘em coming from miles away lines for the very end. that’s fine.

montages

the spn finale is like 50% montages that don’t make sense and are poorly done and not emotional

the good place has a montage of michael being human that brought me to tears

timing

here’s another short section. the good place finale was 53 minutes long as opposed to the usual 20 minute long runtime of every episode. granted, the fandom of the good place is very different, but STILL there was no documentary telling the fans things they ALREADY knew (there was a short special after the ep, but the episode itself was still far longer than normal). it was 53 minutes of plot. of really fucking good not rushed plot. 

the supernatural finale was… what 36 minutes long?? as opposed to the normal 40 minute runtime?? granted, we did get an hour long documentary of things we’ve all heard in cons and interviews a billion times so hey. take what you can get i guess.

character arcs

this is most of the meat of this meta. one thing we’ve all been harping on a TON is how they RUINED character arcs. soooo let’s go through and juxtapose some character arcs shall we

eleanor

eleanor shellstrop starts the show completely self-obsessed. she died getting hit by shopping carts while picking up margarita mix and let’s be real she’s a total icon. love her to death. she grows a ton, becomes one of the most selfless characters on the show, and starts to actually (jack forbid) CARE about things. it’s one of the most satisfying and relatable character arcs i’ve ever seen. 

it’s not just her selfishness either, her character is super multi-faceted and complex, and i feel like even in the end we’re getting to know her better. she’s afraid of commitment, always worried about what others’ actions will do to her, loves the trivial side of life, is queer as fuck (as acknowledged by the show in a way that’s not harmful at all but also isn’t explicitly bi/pan/unlabeled/omni etc, allowing queer fans to see their own identity in her), and is all around a HUMAN BEING. her ending at the beginning of the show was her death. her stupid, trivial, meaningless death where she was, as she puts it, all alone. and her final ending ISNT that. yes, everyone goes before her. and i think that’s purposeful. to show that she’s grown enough that being alone in some sense is okay.

but she’s never TRULY alone. and in the end. the REAL end. janet is there. the whole time. because eleanor asked her to be!! she got over her crazy need for independence and simply asked for help. and eleanor dies an amazing person that has become selfless, has found joy in philosophy while still enjoying trashy content, has fixed her relationship with her mother, and has found a sense of completion. eleanor’s life ends on her terms, and it’s beautiful.

dean

alright. now just as you’re feeling all warm and fuzzy let’s look at dean winchester’s ending. you’ve heard it a million times, so i’ll be brief. dean was raised to be a hunter, a soldier, a killing machine with no feelings and no purpose. he was raised to die scared on a hunt, his life over because of some mistake he made because he will NEVER measure up. at least that’s what john and everyone else told him with the exceptions of some of his family (and family don’t end in blood). he started to accept that he didn’t have to have this. he started to realize that he could CHOOSE what his ending was. 

the beautiful thing is, we never truly got to see what that was. i personally like to think it’s similar to the roadhouse michael locked him in while he was trapped in his own mind. a safe place for hunters, somewhere he (and cas in my opinion, but that’s not important) could settle down and still be in the life. it would be an amazing tribute to jo and ellen, and just all around a great ending. he wouldn’t have to be scared, but he wouldn’t have to conform to some apple pie facade of normalcy. and ya know what?? say that he died so he could have peace i dare you. because dean doesn’t find peace until sam is there anyway so i beg of you WHAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT. 

dean winchester died scared. dean winchester died on a hunt. dean winchester died on one of john’s old hunts. dean winchester died not directly at the hands of a monster, but at the hands of a mistake. his mistake. dean winchester died without ever working through the trauma of his best friend in the entire world confessing his love in a final act of self-sacrifice. dean winchester died in a way that leaves a sour taste in my mouth and does not at all show the audience what he’s been through and how much he’s grown. dean winchester did not die on his terms, and he deserved better.

chidi

okay back to happy. chidi anagonye. by far my personal favorite good place character (don’t tell anyone i always say jason cuz he and i are very similar). chidi in the last few episodes is SO DRASTICALLY different than the chidi we meet at the beginning. he’s decisive, confident, self-assured, and it’s amazing to see. he’s not afraid of life anymore. he’s not afraid to make the wrong decision and forever alter his reality, because he’s okay with failure. 

at the beginning, chidi was so petrified of life that… it killed him. and in the end, he’s completely at peace with every decision he makes, even the final one. yes, he considered staying for eleanor, but that just shows how his moral code and his compassion for others is still very much still intact. it shows the audience that you can be confident and decisive without being a selfish asshole. 

chidi leaves the good place knowing that it’s the right thing to do. knowing without a doubt that his time has come. the old chidi never would have been able to fathom being that sure about something. it’s beautiful. it’s a development that can give the audience peace, can show them that this drastic of change is possible, and that chidi became a better person for all of it. chidi went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.

sam

… this one might be controversial… but sam winchester. god i hated sam’s ending. at first i was kinda okay with it. like, okay fine he got his normal life. but, really, in the end that’s not what sam wanted. he started to realize that he didn’t need that apple pie, white picket fence life. he didn’t need the wife and the kids and the backyard and the barbecues because that is NOT sam’s personality and i will throw hands on that. 

that’s not to say he doesn’t want some sort of romance, maybe even kids, but not in that way. he lets himself see that he doesn’t need to be defined by his rebellion to john. doesn’t need to be defined by going to college or any of those “normal” smart kid things because it doesn’t fit him. and that’s okay! but how does sam’s story end? it ends with a wife (that isn’t even important enough to show her face). with kids. with a goddamn white picket fence. we think he’s still hunting to some extent… but it’s not the arc we were led to believe would happen. it’s not this amazing leader sam that we see in season 12-14, uniting hunters and organizing them. 

he had SO MUCH potential and they throw it away on a vanilla ending that shows only surface level pain at losing his brother. he doesn’t even invite the rest of their family to the wake for fuck’s sake. jared did an incredible job. pls don’t think i’m saying he didn’t. but that script…. sam winchester’s arc was cut short. he didn’t go on his terms, and he deserved better.

jason

jason mandoza. the only character that has ever embodied my complete dumbass energy to the insane extent that it exists. he went to hell for his impulsivity. he never thought before a decision. i aspire to be as reckless as jason while on earth. but he LEARNED. he got better, just like they all did. and by the end of the show, jason doesn’t need to be impulsive anymore. much like eleanor being left “alone,” the show does a masterful job with making him be the first one to go, capturing his old impulsiveness. but he chooses to leave. he takes his time in deliberation, waiting until a feeling of peace, of completion, of well, ‘true happiness’ (sorry cas stans, i’m right there with you) has settled over him. 

the ending of his story is one of growth, just like all these characters have been. and the best part? the show makes it comedic in the most poignant and beautiful way, because it’s jason, it had to be funny. we learn that jason has been in the woods for like, eons, just waiting to go through the door because he wants to give janet a necklace. he’s learned to simply wait. to be at peace with… nothing. his torture was being a monk, but in the end, jason embodies those ideals. his arc comes to fruition in an extremely satisfying way. jason goes on his own terms, and it’s beautiful.

castiel

this one is gonna hurt like a bitch. castiel is my comfort character. he’s my role model. he’s me in a lot of ways. i love him. so fucking much. so excuse me if this is slightly incoherent. i’m actually okay with cas’ ending… in a way. because his actual ending as an on-screen character? perfect. self-sacrifice while coming out and professing his love to dean winchester. a little bit bury the gays, but let’s be real, it’s supernatural. and “happiness is in just saying it” has to be the most powerful way to think of coming out. it takes away the fear, it takes away so much of the pain that can follow. because the joy is in just saying the words.

it’s how this was treated on the show that makes cas’ character arc terrible (and we haven’t even gotten to 15.20). YOU CANNOT JUST IGNORE A LOVE CONFESSION. that is god awful writing and i will never change my mind on that. cas deserved his family to care about him. to at least address and be sad about the fact he was gone. jesus fucking christ after everything castiel deserved at least that. and then we go to 15.20. cas is in heaven. cas is serving god. cas is right back where he started. now, i’m coming off a little strong. 

if the show had decided to show us cas and jack in heaven makin’ the world a better place… i woulda come around to it. i woulda realized that that’s not REALLY erasing 12 years of character development and cas realizing that his whole identity isn’t just him serving heaven and isn’t just him being an angel and that he’s so much more than all of that and he could still be happy as a human… because really he’s with his son. but they didn’t show us that. they barely even mentioned him. and to me. that counts as a bad character arc. and i’m sorry if you disagree. castiel may have gone on his own terms, but they treated that beautiful sacrifice with disrespect and disdain, plus resolved his arc by putting him back where he started. he deserved better.

tahani

*deep breaths guys this is a long post i’m sorry* anywayyyy tahani!!! we love tahani obviously. let’s talk about her arc, because it always kinda bothered me. throughout the show, we see all the other character’s growing and expanding their knowledge of right and wrong. and, don’t get me wrong. we see tahani grow a lot. but she makes a lot of the same types of comments and shit like that. but it’s how she treats the reactions to those comments. by the end of the show, she laughs at the caricature of herself that the others see. she isn’t looking for vindication in name-dropping, she just does it. she is far less self-absorbed, and is genuinely interested in those around her. she fixes her relationships with her sister and her parents in a way that doesn’t feel forced and actually feels like a beautiful, healthy family reunion. 

she has a list and she does everything on it. it’s worth noting, that the things on her list are not at all what they would have been at the beginning of the show. most of them are humble “labor” type tasks, and all of them are in self improvement. tahani’s end on the show is not the same as everyone else’s. she realizes that she doesn’t need to be done. that there doesn’t have to be an end to self-improvement. and she becomes an architect. the writers perfectly embody her transformation from a self-obsessed rich girl who has never done a thing for herself and laughs at the lower-class to a down-to-earth worker that simply doesn’t want the journey to end. 

it’s incredible how perfectly the writers were able to close off these character arc’s without it feeling forced, and without ignoring their character development. imagine that. tahani chooses her own way, and it’s beautiful.

jack

jack’s ending may be the only one that i’ve actually somewhat come to terms with. it’s not terrible. it’s not great. but it’s not nearly as bad. because ignoring that awful monologue about every drop of rain and shit, jack really does end up helping people. he ends up doing something that he loves and that makes the world a better place. and he doesn’t lose his personality in it. but. i dunno, that’s still his destiny, right? to create paradise. and this is a show about ripping up the rule book, about choosing free will above all else… so to have every single character just fulfill their destiny is cheap. 

still… i’ll try to be unbiased. because really at the beginning of jack’s time on the show, he’s unsure what he wants. and at least, in the end, he’s sure. he has a wisdom that he’s always had but he’s now using. and i’m good with that. but what’s NOT okay about jack’s ending is the lack of on-screen family. jack learns that family is important. sam, cas, dean those are the people he cares about. and you’re telling me he would just NEVER see them again? and be okay with that? i know he rebuilds heaven with cas, but we don’t even get a story about him rescuing cas from the empty. and he seems in 15.19 to not be that concerned about it (after the amazing emotional scene at the beginning). jack should have cared about his family. he did. but they ruined that for him. so jack kline deserved better.

michael

oh man where do i start. michael’s growth is the biggest on the show. i mean. he starts as a literal demon and ends a human. he gets better, he falls in love with humanity (*castiel fan in me sobbing again*) and he chooses over and over to be good instead of bad. his whole arc is a classic redemption arc, and every single beat just gets better. he chooses selfishly to side with humans but in the end it turns out to be the best decision he could have made. because he develops emotions, he develops compassion, he develops a moral compass. 

and his end reflects that. because to complete this arc of a demon becoming more human… he literally becomes human!!!! it fits so well. and he’s allowed to make mistakes and be happy and gain all that humanity has to offer. this just shows that human!endgame for cosmic beings that become more human WORKS SO WELL (and it shoulda happened for cas and jack that’s all i’m saying). michael went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.

eileen

oh boy… this one stings. because they brought her back, used her up, and we never saw her again. eileen was one of the best side characters on the show, and they rarely addressed her arc. she comes onto the show as a hunter seeking revenge, and gets that revenge in the same episode. her s15 arc is focused on what’s real and what’s not, with her relationship to sam admittedly being a central part of her character because… it’s supernatural and women can’t exist without that. but still! eileen grows throughout the show and in the end… we don’t even know what happens to her. it’s as if her arc wasn’t important enough to even glance at. 

it’s as if the connections the boys make outside of each other mean nothing when in reality they mean everything. they prove that the co-dependency is behind them and that family doesn’t end with blood and that real connections can be formed between people that last a lifetime. eileen was a disabled hunter that was shown to still be one of the best in the business, and they didn’t even give her the courtesy of a goodbye. eileen didn’t go on her own terms, and she deserved better.

janet

this is gonna unbalance my list but goddammit janet’s ending was perfect. she was a not-robot, not-girl that should have been incapable of feelings. but throughout the series we get to watch as she learns first-hand about human emotions and processes them. she cares about the humans in her charge and fights for them on multiple counts. 

in the end, we see janet come to terms with both her cosmic being side, and her human side. she never stops being with the “cockroaches.” she sees them all leave, she’s there for them while they’re there, and she also continues to speak her mind and live autonomously. janet was a non-human character done right. she lived on her own terms, and it was beautiful.

some honorable mentions

spn ignored (in the finale) chuck, amara, stevie, charlie, jody, donna, garth, bess, the other angels, claire, kaia, patience, alex, and the list goes ON in favor of focusing on JUST sam and dean. did none of those characters at least deserve a quick goodbye??????

the good place wrapped up multiple arcs i had completely forgotten about in a totally natural and not forced way. mindy, doug forester, (the mushroom guy, i know, it took me a second), pillboy, donkey doug, kamilah, tahani’s parents, eleanor’s mother, eleanor’s friends, chidi’s best friend, vicki, shawn, glenn, simone and so many that i’m forgetting all got satisfying ends that they totally deserved. 

they even fucking resolved FROG GUY’S arc and gave him a real frog. that’s right. frog guy (jeff) had a better character arc resolution than dean motherfucking winchester. 

heaven and hell

obviously in very different vehicles, both shows explore in depth the realities of the afterlife. and lemme tell ya, at the end of the day, one sits a whole lot better than the other. 

the good place finale ends this quest for the perfect afterlife by saying that everyone can improve and that an eternal paradise shouldn’t keep you from eternal rest. they pretty much make me wish that this is what our afterlife looked like. they handle everything with care so it’s balanced precariously in a way that doesn’t give you anxiety looking at it but instead fills you with peace and faith in humanity. 

supernatural addresses this series long battle between heaven and hell by creating a heaven where you drive for forty years without seeing the people (cough cough cas and jack not his parents) that matter to you and drink beer that tastes like shit. a place you can’t be happy or find any sense of peace until your brother has died and he’s there too.

and hell… well they barely even address it. there’s a new queen of hell i guess? but so what. it’s still very much heaven and hell in a way that’s the worst and hey plus to them… makes me wanna stay alive thank you very much. oh and purgatory is in shambles and not functioning properly cuz all that eve bullshit.

loose ends

whenever something is ending, you gotta tie up the loose ends. not in a “oh, we must wrap everything up and leave no stone unturned” kinda way but in a “wow, we should probably try to make this unambiguous because this is the last time we will ever see these characters” kinda way. 

the good place does that. so fucking masterfully. all these side plots with all these different characters were taken care of all while focusing on the main six characters. we get to see how their intervention has changed everyone else. for example, mindy’s arc is wrapped up perfectly, with eleanor going to save her.

plus different running jokes like “take it sleazy” are wrapped up, we revisit really old callbacks like the original neighborhood, and all of it feels natural and in the moment. it feels like full circle in a way that doesn’t erase growth. 

supernatural, on the other hand, left a million loose ends open. what happened to the boys they saved? where the fuck are jody, donna, etc.? did eileen make it back? cuz sam was pretty upset about that. what happened to it “being loud” in the empty? hell, what happened to the empty? what happened to hell? what about chuck? it woulda been nice to see just for a second what became of him. did charlie and stevie make it (i’m very invested in that relationship)? if we’re taking the original ending… why the fuck is jimmy there? did kansas just all,,, die? 

i’m not saying they needed to address everything… but god a few wrapped up storylines besides the brothers wouldn’t have hurt

coloring

can i just… real quick… as a giffer lodge a complaint

the good place has beautiful vibrant coloring in the finale

spn has like bland washed out whatever the fuck that is coloring. it’s not even the dark early aesthetic cuz they dropped that it’s just… ew. so. do with that what you will. 

conclusion

first… while writing this i realized just HOW MUCH it’s not about destiel… like believe me. i knew i wasn’t just pissed about destiel. but holy shit it’s not destiel at all like did i even mention destiel that much???? this was never about a ship. this was just a trash finale. 

in the end. the good place writers knew what they were doing. they knew their fans, they knew their characters, they knew their world, and they knew how to wrap it up in a way that was satisfying and sad and perfectly fit the tone of the whole show. it wasn’t out of character or rushed, basically every loose end was tied up without the audience even realizing that’s what they were doing, and i feel happy and complete having watched it. 

the supernatural ending was a betrayal. flat out. to the audience that has stuck by it in a way bigger way than the good place fandom. to the characters that have helped so many people. to the actors that have given so much of their lives. to the other members of the crew, to certain writers… all of it was just a slap in the face.

we deserved better guys. there are better endings possible. so i’m sorry. i really am. but i guess… that’s what fanfic is for, right?

#spn meta #spn wank #the good place #supernatural #somethingtosay #the good place gifs #spn gifs #meta #my writing #my meta #mine #my gifs #userpris #fieryfrankie #purgatoryking #chaoticdean #stardustsam #spncreatorsdaily #userannie #adorkabledean #usertila #tuserksn #usersila

[comradekatara]

so what’s the comprehensive list of ultimate besties within the gaang

ok so

aang & katara. obviously. their love for & faith in each other literally saved the world. they are each other’s ultimate best friend, and it’s pretty clear to see why. katara’s first real friend, aang’s first friend upon awaking from the iceberg. cemented forever thru penguin sledding. they love each other so much!!! 

sokka & toph. they are each other’s best friend, period. anyone who says zuko or aang or even suki is sokka’s best friend is like.... wrong? it’s toph. it’s obviously toph. toph is the first true kindred spirit sokka ever met, and vice versa. they understand each other perfectly, and love each other infinitely. 

katara & zuko. he doesn’t rank as highly as aang (no one ever will) but zuko is definitely also katara’s best friend. they understand each other in a very profound way due to sharing a lot of similar values, traumas, flaws, and desires. also while katara loves aang very much, he has no hair to speak of, which means that she cannot give him hair loopies. so that’s what zuko is for.

mai & sokka. they almost immediately become besties after the war, and it’s like finding a long-lost sibling. which is ironic considering mai hates sokka’s sibling (mai & katara eventually do grow on each other, but it takes.... a while), and sokka hates mai’s sibling (he finds toddlers in general to be extremely offputting, and tom tom is particularly irksome). they love each other a lot, though.

aang & appa. they are each other’s only bond to the past, and they mean the world to each other. they are friends for life—every life. 

aang & zuko. they bond over being earnest idealists who want to save the world, and also just loving & supporting katara at all times <3

mai & toph. they had almost exactly the same childhood, only toph was given a chance to escape, and mai...well... so they understand each other perfectly. mai sokka & toph are a trio in a similar way to how aang katara & zuko are a trio, and that’s all you need to know really. 

aang & sokka. aang immediately decided that sokka was his new big brother, and while admittedly it took sokka a little bit longer to get onboard, he definitely came around. aang admires sokka’s wits, and sokka admires aang’s wisdom. they never stop going to each other for advice, or being utter goofballs together. tbh they really need each other.

aang & suki. they adore each other and have so much fun together. sometimes they deliberately exclude the rest of the gaang from their hangouts because they’re the only two people in their friendgroup who actually know how to chill. that said, they also have an ongoing prank war that is getting increasingly more intense, much to everyone (but toph)’s concern. 

suki & ty lee. suki wasn’t there when ty lee befriended the other kyoshi warriors, so it takes a while for her to warm up to her, considering last time they saw each other was hand to hand combat on the top of a gondola over boiling water, but they actually get along really well. all ty lee has to do is say something really mean about azula in front of her, and suki is instantly won over. ty lee’s pretty much her right-hand kyoshi warrior after that. 

sokka & suki. they just sort of understand each other perfectly. calling them “besties” would feel disingenuous considering their relationship has never been remotely platonic, but they do call each other “bro” a lot, so there is that... 

mai & ty lee. okay well calling them “besties” is a crime because they are in deep, passionate gay love, so jot that down. that said they are also childhood best friends and each other’s lifeline through it all, and that needs to be acknowledged. at all times does that need to be acknowledged, actually. 

aang & toph. like with katara, aang was toph’s first real friend, and that’s not something one really forgets. they are the wise-beyond-their-years babies of the group, and also toph just loves throwing his little ballerina body around like a ragdoll. 

sokka & zuko. it might come from never having truly known another teenage boy their age before (jet does not count for obvious reasons), or it might come from being the only other person in their friend group who actually cares about literature, but they just kinda get each other. one month into their friendship and they have already stocked up on so many inside jokes they may as well be speaking another language. also zuko thinks that sokka is really cool and smart, and let’s not kid ourselves, sokka could really use the ego boost.  

katara & suki. they are both extremely similar in many ways, and yet also couldn’t be more different. they are terrified of even so much as playfully insulting each other, so instead they are always just complimenting each other like two drunk girls in a bathroom (“I love your hair” “no i love YOUR hair” “well you should, my hair is amazing” etc). they bond over gossiping/complaining about boys (they never talk about sokka though; their friendship is mostly maintained through pretending that he doesn’t exist), doing “girl stuff” (as sokka and toph label it) like shopping and spa days and makeovers, and getting really competitive over stuff that shouldn’t actually matter, such as arm wrestling, or hair length competitions. ultimately, suki has stronger biceps but katara has longer leg hair, so it pretty much evens out. 

toph & zuko. gay? check. disabled? check. abusive parents? check. because of this, they always feel comfortable around each other in a way that is usually difficult for them. there are some forms of empathy that can only be developed from shared experience, and that’s why their particular bond is so special. 

aang & ty lee. they are both used to keeping the peace, and, despite being universally-adored, never truly feeling seen. it’s nice for them to just relax and have fun together.

mai & zuko. it’s a good thing mai is a very forgiving person, because she really has no reason to be. that said, their friendship is actually very important to both of them, especially as they grow older and realize all the ways in which many of their (shared) childhood experiences fucked them up. it’s just nice to have someone to lean on. 

aang & yue. aang’s half-human half-spirit bestie!! they are always supporting each other <3 <3 <3

katara & toph. they are sisters, which for the most part means that they are constantly endeavoring to make each other as miserable as possible until they realize that they are actually teetering on the edge of calamity, at which point they hug and make up. they’re the two best benders in the world (avatar excluded), so one of these days they will cause irreparable property damage, but so far, aang & sokka have successfully managed to rein them in. they may drive each other crazy sometimes, but after all, that’s what family’s for.

#the gaang and #after the first three this stopped being in any particular order lmao #these are just friendships i . care about #asks #kacchamango #also did not include momo appa (other than aang ofc couldnt leave that out now could i) iroh azula etc.. #wouldve gotten too long otherwise

[mimsyaf]

TKK3, some thoughts: Suddenly there’s a lot of fic that engages with the absolute batshit crazy house of mirrors that is The Karate Kid Part III, and I’m fascinated. Why? I mean Terry Silver (who is his own trigger warning) is a long, tall drink of water, for sure for sure. And we now know that he’ll be featured in the next season of Cobra Kai, which — yay! bring it! But I think, as aesthetically pleasing as Terry Silver is, as “Batter my heart, three-person’d God” as the gaze is that Daniel casts upon him, there are primarily narrative irritants that are calling forth these pearls of TKK3 writing. As opposed to just thirst.

If TKK3 had not existed, we would have a somewhat straightforward and discouraging character arc on our hands for Daniel LaRusso. From luminous, impetuous, ardent, curious boy he grows into a middle-aged man who has not learned yet how to forgive, who chases wealth and outward status at the expense of wisdom. This man still glimmers with love and passion and temper but now these fires are banked under heavy grey ashes of complacency, pettiness, insecurity and self-satisfaction. And he knows it! He’s aware of all of this on some level! Without TKK3, the narrative arc is that Nothing Gold Can Stay. When you grow up, your heart dies. At least in part, and then Cobra Kai is for Daniel an attempt to rouse himself from his coma, in which Johnny (on the surface the antagonist) is actually a necessary and rousing jolt to awaken him.

But! TKK3 does exist, and is a profoundly weird, fun, flawed piece. Two of the main creatives involved had deep reservations about making it. The writer did not want to write it — he had an entire other script already mapped out in which Mr. Miyagi and Daniel were hanging out in a boat, and Daniel falls asleep and basically dreams the entire plot of Crouching Tiger. Hidden Dragon, inasmuch as it is a Chinese martial arts story, and they fly. And! The protagonist was going to be a girl? But the studio execs said Nyet, we want another story in the formula of TKK, and if you don’t write it we’ll give the script to someone who will, and they will irrevocably fuck up Mr. Miyagi, (and it will probably be unwittingly suuuuper racist) and that will be all your fault. And then presumably they laughed like Terry Silver, HAHAHAHAHA! So the writer had a gun to his head, no, worse, to his beloved character’s head, and I do think he wrote TKK3 through gritted teeth so to speak. Parts of it read like a fuck you to the producers: “you want a bad guy?? Fine, he runs a TOXIC WASTE DISPOSAL COMPANY and wanders around naked and laughing maniacally all the time, is that villainous enough for you??” But because he did truly love Daniel and Mr. Miyagi, he kept threading tender scenes about compassion and found family into the hot and dramatic mess of the script. It’s like if Trois Gnossiennes started playing during a quiet moment in Carmina Burana, like WTF? Oh and also it’s a meditation on trauma and grooming and abuse.

And then Ralph Macchio ALSO had reservations about being involved. He didn’t want to risk spoiling the delight and hope and joie de vivre of the first two movies with an inferior third sequel, and also he was getting rilly old to play a teenager, and wanted to move on. I imagine he felt the flaw in the script and rather than rising above it, at times he sank under it, in part due to his ambivalence. And Thomas Ian Griffith had basically not ever acted before apart from a recurring role on a soap opera, and though he is a thing of beauty and a joy forever in this movie, not everything he’s doing makes sense, as like, acting. Or a coherent character arc. Or human behavior.

So in between the luminous boy Daniel of TKK and TKK2 and the infuriating but deeply lovable man Daniel of Cobra Kai is this utterly flawed work, that dances with questions of trauma and self-betrayal and then ends with a few minutes of soft core torture porn at The All Valley and resolves in about 30 seconds with a rehash of the victory from TKK, but in a way that makes no sense given everything that came before that moment.

And Terry Silver just like, wanders off. Mildly perturbed. And he and Kreese apparently don’t do anything else to Daniel LaRusso for 30-something years. But whatever.

Dreams are the brain’s way of working in emotional problems, and I think the flourishing gardens of Terry Silver-centric fic right now are all of us trying to dream our way to a solution to the problem of Daniel LaRusso, and dealing with some truly nutso source material that doesn’t fit in neatly with the rest of canon. But long live the flaws! My experience is that many artistically unimpeachable works don’t inspire much fiction, as there’s not gaps for us to attempt to bridge with our spider silk.

Sorry this is such a ramble!

#meta #tkk3 #terry silver #daniel larusso

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 7]

[Donnie x reader]

chapter 6 here

"Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello," Splinter's voice bounced around Donnie's head. 

The brothers all looked at each other incredulously, Donnie's anxiousness replaced by complete bafflement. Everyone was wondering the same thing: How did he know?

"You wonder how I knew," Splinter said pointedly, "as if you four are any good at keeping a secret."

They waited for him to go on, but instead there was another uncomfortable pause, Splinter assumedly expecting them to say something. It was Mikey who finally broke the silence. "Are you gonna, like...tell us what we did wrong? How you knew? So next you can't—"

Splinter scoffed and brought his staff down on the youngest's foot. Mikey yelped, bouncing away on one leg. "Teach you how to lie? I have taught you many skills, but one that will always elude you is how to keep something from me. Parents have a sixth sense, you know." He turned to Donnie, regarding the rest of them with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You three, to your rooms. Come to the dojo with me, Donatello." 

The three were quick to scatter, Mikey whining into Raph's ear about being sent to their rooms so early, and Raph huffing that he'd been dragged in too. 

Swallowing, Donnie followed behind him a few paces, not sure what to expect but nervous all the same. He was lead in and instructed to sit down on the floor, Splinter settling down in front of him. Donnie's fingers brushed along the ridges of the knuckles of his other hand again and again as he tried to find something to occupy them with. 

Resting his palms in his hands, Splinter began to talk, voice less harsh than Donnie had anticipated. "I know that we lead a very isolated life, my son. But you must keep your priorities in perspective. You four need each other, and betraying one another's trust does not help that case."

"I'm sorry, Master Splinter," Donnie apologized and hung his head. 

"Perhaps you should apologize to your brothers, just as they should to you." 

I did put them on the spot, especially Leo, thought Donnie, considering now that he had put him and Raph in a weird position. They had to choose between ratting on him to Splinter and keeping it under wraps for the sake of not stirring up the pot needlessly. As much as Leo was a stickler for the rules, he didn't want to create dissension between him and Donnie. So, they chose the latter option, and now all four were in trouble with their father. 

"Okay. I guess...but, Master Splinter, how did you know?" 

"About your secret antics?" 

Donnie let out a humorless chortle, feeling a twinge of embarrassment that he had actually thought at some point, he was getting away with anything. "Yeah, it...it wasn't very much of a secret."

Stroking his chin, Splinter plainly said, "It was only a suspicion, until you confirmed it."

That night a few weeks ago when Splinter came to him in his lab. The way he squeaked when he was confronted just prior to them going to talk alone. Why didn't I think of that? It was a classic trick, one their father had deployed quite a few times on them. He'd been baited into giving himself away. None of them could tell when he was bluffing or if he actually knew. Save for Leo, who managed only twice in their time to make heads or tails of it. 

"I really walked right into that one," Donnie whimpered under his breath, palms pressing down on his knees. 

"You did. But," his tone turned more serious, looking him dead in the eye, "you must fix your mistakes, son." 

 "How?" asked Donnie softly, searching for his father's guidance, but it would find no purchase. He was hard pressed to find a solution immediately. 

Splinter shut his eyes and thought. It was a tricky situation, indeed. He gathered that if anything, this was an excellent lesson for Donnie, as well as the others. Under his own supervision, of course; there wasn't room for any more blundering. 

Standing up, he placed his staff under his hand. "I trust that you will find a way. You have a brilliant mind, Donatello. Use it well," he told him, and went to leave the training room. 

Donnie was still sat on the floor contemplating Splinter's words, honored yet uneasy at the same time that he was being entrusted to fix things. How, he didn't know. Truly. He was at war with himself trying to balance his logic with his emotions, trying to make the two meet gracefully, but it felt impossible. Whichever road he chose, it was a betrayal to the other. One left behind while the other took the wheel. And thoughtlessly, he blurted out, "What if your heart is telling you something completely different, Sensei? What if everything feels contradictory, and—and like there's no right answer, even though you do have this mind, you just can't seem to…" 

Donnie's voice tapered. Slightly surprised, Splinter stopped in his tracks, brows high as he looked back at him, who was so clearly riddled with a deeper kind of conflict. Critically discouraged, but still the sliver of will in those eyes of his. His heart went out to him. 

Splinter had known that Donnie was interacting with a human. What he hadn't known was that he was in love with the human. 

There was a moment of understanding, and Splinter realized that Donnie could not do this on his own. It reminded him of the times the turtles had all been children, the way Donnie looked to him for wisdom as he grappled with himself. Sighing, Splinter sat back down, this time close to him. Donnie was despondent, reverting to staring at the edge of the mat he sat on. "I know your struggles, my son. It seems like there's a sacrifice no matter what you choose, does it not?" 

"I don't want to let you guys down. But, I...you know, I'm sorry, Master Splinter, but you don't understand." 

He didn't want to say bluntly that he wanted to think of himself and his needs, unlike usual. He knew Splinter would probably not approve of that. None of them had much of a chance to make a selfish decision, aside from everyday things such tucking into the pizza before it even made it back to the Lair. So far, the number of times he could recall making a consequential choice for the sole purpose of indulging himself, was an astounding zero. 

"What makes you think I would not understand?" questioned Splinter, and Donnie regretted that he'd said it. He didn't miss how Donnie looked to be becoming mildly sour (among other things), though not at him specifically.

It was then Donnie clammed up, shut down the conversation, he was not going to say it. "It" being what he assumed Splinter wasn't privy to, that he had undoubtedly fallen hard for his friend. But knowing his father, he could totally have had a clue. Splinter didn't always need the details to make an assessment when it came to his sons, whom he knew all too well.

Letting out a crestfallen huff, Donnie rested his chin on his knee, arm obstructing the better half of his face. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled. 

Splinter stayed quiet. He didn't want to drive Donnie off—not when he was in such a turmoil. The atmosphere changed to a cold one. Donnie didn't acknowledge him until he put his hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze and saying, "I will tell you again: I trust that you will figure it out." 

What if I make the wrong decision? 

"For all of our sakes, I hope you're right, Sensei," Donnie responded. Splinter smiled and got up, prepared to leave the matter at that until any further updates. Until the phone in Donnie's back pocket began to vibrate out of the blue. He wanted to answer, but what, at that point? What should he say? 

A minute went by of more persistent vibrating, and Splinter's ear twitched, certain he knew who it was. He was disappointed with the carelessness that had brought them to that moment, but what was done was done. None knew if the girl had any suspicions. "Are you going to answer it?" he asked, sort of prompting him to pick the phone up. 

"May I?" Donnie thought he might have sounded a little eager.

Splinter let out a calm hum and motioned for him to do it. Donnie lifted his finger to press accept, but Splinter interrupted firmly, "Speaker, Donatello."

Eyes flitting to Splinter, he accepted the call and reluctantly turned on the speaker. 

"Bo, what was all of that earlier, dude? You had me worried sick!" spoke [y/n], more concerned than angry (which Donnie was somewhat relieved about), but he sunk down sheepishly upon seeing the look on his father's face. He gave Donnie a questionable glance at the word "Bo", as he wasn't aware of the details. Donnie wasn't about to correct her right now. 

"I–...hey, [y/n]," he said, forcing himself to turn to the side so he wouldn't have to look at Splinter. The eyes on him made him feel put off to the point he couldn't focus on her voice, but the fact that Splinter was right there, listening in, and both were fixing to find out just what kind of mess they had on their hands. "Believe me when I tell you, you don't want to get caught up in this," he told her, "I can't—"

"Listen," she started, exasperated, "I've heard it before. 'I can't tell you this', and 'I can't tell you that'," she went on, "Be honest with me, Bo; is it that you can't or you just won't?"  

Splinter's thoughts were undetermined. Donnie couldn't read anything from his stoic expression. 

"It's not that I won't," he rebutted, pitch going up involuntarily, "Why won't you listen to me when I say I can't?" 

"Because there's something going on, with you, and I know my eyes weren't just playing tricks on me. I saw something crazy—I heard it, too, when I called you the other day!" 

I am so dead. Donnie's stomach did a flip. He couldn't face his father, but behind him, Splinter placed his hand on his face, covering his eyes. He shot Donnie an intimidating glance, and Donnie waved his hands nervously, listening to her go on as he backed up. Pivoting around from the jabs sent to his side by Splinter's staff, he jumped away with his comically long stride, trying to avoid the onslaught while juggling the phone. He muffled a grunf of pain when the cane managed to whack his head. 

"Hold on!" he said, and Splinter stopped and narrowed his eyes, the voice on the other end of the phone also going silent. Donnie couldn't regain his composure while being chased around the dojo, so he finally was able to sputter out, "W-what did you see?" 

"I was on the balcony, 'Don'. I heard your voice on the phone and saying the same thing from the roof, and saw two giant...turtles! With weapons, fighting what looked like ninjas?! What even is this?" she yelled. 

She'd put two and two together. There was no fixing. 

Only acceptance. 

Blinking, Donnie nearly dropped the phone. Splinter shut his eyes, slowly shook his head, and turned around. The sound of his cane tapping the floor as he walked was the only thing he could hear after he tuned out the speaker. 

He was now alone in the dojo, under the light that streamed through the grate above him, standing in the hush. 

He turned the speaker off. She, on the other end, was quiet, too, in disbelief. And probably rightfully feeling betrayed, in a way, Donnie thought. The friend she'd come to care for so much turned out to be someone she couldn't have even imagined. 

Licking his lips, he put on the most level tone he could and said in a struggle, "You can't tell anyone. I-if you say something, I'll... we'll…"

I could never threaten you, [y/n]. 

"You'll what?" she asked, voice low.

Then, all the could hear was her breathing. The dojo was completely quiet, the room was large, and there he was, in the middle. Donnie liked smaller spaces. Darker spaces, like his lab. He felt exposed in that moment, even when no one could see him.

"Be in danger," he said in earnest.

There was some rustling, then the sound of wind on her end. He barely heard a sliding door shut.

"Come here," she told him firmly. 

His eyes went wide. "What?" he questioned, stupefied.

She sighed, "No more lying, Bo—Don—I don't know. If what we have really matters to you…"

A mix of emotions swirled in him as he waited for her words. She hesitated.

"I'll come," he whispered, finishing her sentence. 

"You'll come." 

Blowing a breath out from between his lips, and nodded. Sorry, Master Splinter. 

He snuck through the Lair to the exit of the sewers.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #donatello #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt leomardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #fanfic #fanfiction #teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic

[solomonish]

Love is Just a Feeling I Do Not Need (Lucifer x Reader)

Even if this dream isn’t yours, just keep dreaming it.

based off of this song.

ao3 link: here!

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me It's not my act and it's driving me crazy That gaze you're giving me, that voice and that face I see Ah, don't you know? I hate them so-o-o

Though Lucifer was normally a fan of reliability and structure, this was a routine he wouldn’t mind going on without.

Every Thursday, sometime between the hours of 5 and 6 o’clock, you and Mammon would find yourselves shuffling nervously in front of his desk, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the verbal lashing you were about to receive. Most often than not, he’d direct his frustration towards Mammon, saving the gentler reprimands for you. It isn’t that he intended to go easy on you - if anything, he truly thought you could do with a little more firm punishment - but you normally got roped into Mammon’s schemes in the middle of trying to stop them. It was a noble, yet foolish, effort, and forcing yourself through the same vicious cycle seemed punishment enough for your naivety.

If ever there was a chance at levelling with you, Lucifer would hope you’d agree that receiving such a punishment was him was a blessing in disguise. He never lacked in the discipline department, but compared to the types of demons out there that weren’t bound by honor or loyalty and would love to take a bite out of you, his lectures were hardly anything to complain about. Though you’d furrow your brows or glower at him every now and then, it was your sweetness that got you into your messes and it was what allowed those transgressions to pass. He could tell that, as burdensome as you clearly thought he was in these moments, you never intended to interrupt his work or irk him beyond repair.

However, even the sweetest of fruits could rot if left on the table for long enough, and you were no different.

Lucifer had hoped that you might be a good influence on Mammon, or at least teach him a little bit of responsibility, but it seemed the influencing was happening the other way around. You got braver with your challenging looks and quips of defiance, only pushing the boundaries further the longer you were in the devildom. Perhaps, in his effort to allow you to ruminate on your actions yourself, he had spoiled you, for you were certainly acting far out of the bounds of what was appropriate for your situation. Not only did you seem to find your consistent troublemaking a persistent problem that needed fixing, but you also thought that, in a house filled with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, you found it a wise decision to directly challenge him, the oldest, the one most capable of hurting you. Lucifer wasn’t known for his tendency to hold back his anger or his punishments, and exchange students didn’t exactly have the privilege of diplomatic immunity.

Even worse, when he told you as much, all you had to say for yourself was, "You know, you don't have to put on this authoritative act for every little thing just to earn my respect."

Even worse for you, you had a lopsided smile that you couldn't repress, one full of arrogance and challenging him directly. He clenched tighter onto his desk, not quite sending spindling fractures through the wood but hearing it creak in protest all the same. Almost immediately, that cocky grin slipped off your face and you murmured an apology, lowering your head in submission in the hopes he would only continue his lecture and not add on to the punishment.

If the work slotted into his day had been any less, he would have come up with some sort of punishment for you. Your sudden cowardice was not enough to force his pride to keel. But his workload was already too immense to be dealing with a human’s daring - stupid - display of defiance, so he waved you off shortly after and stewed over his reports.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way you practically scurried out of his office, nor could he block out the harsh whispers outside his door as Mammon fussed over you. For a brief moment, he figured that he should call you back, give you a fitting punishment for your continued antics and save the future version of himself from these headaches. However, he knew that it’d only breed harsher animosity within you, and you would only work harder to annoy him. At the mere thought, his headache returned, and he focused on the paper on the desk in his attempt to block out the pain.

Whether it was due to your tendency to attract danger or his own tendency to micromanage once given a job (and dedicated to his task to assist in the exchange program he was), Lucifer found himself keeping an eye on you whenever he could. Oftentimes, he was out of your range, working in his office or assisting Diavolo wherever he may be in the expansive school. Even during class, when he wasn’t pulled aside to help Diavolo, he was in some of the most advanced classes in the school, all far above your level as a human thrown into an unfamiliar realm. That was one of the reasons he assigned you as Mammon’s responsibility - even though he did know, deep down, that his brother would rise to the occasion, he was also the only brother in a few of the lower level classes you had. That was a thought he didn’t dare linger on for too long, lest he feel another flare of anger build up.

Still, there were moments when he passed you in the hall, or beckoned you to follow him into his office to smooth over some administrative details regarding your exchange student status in the Devildom. Each time you turned your back, he found himself watching you leave, as if his gaze alone was enough to send you safely on your own. Nobody caught him staring - and if they did, they had the wisdom to pretend they didn’t. Yet you were human in every aspect of the word, tactless, weak and unwise, and when you caught his gaze - which he hated to admit had happened, and hated even more to count exactly how many times it happened - you smiled at him kindly. Those times, you weren’t planning anything or hoping to annoy him. You were merely treating him like a friend, giving him a silent greeting when you knew he wouldn’t make his way over to you to meet you properly.

Treating him like a friend...treating him with as much familiarity as you did his brothers? The thought insulted him. If you weren’t afraid of him, he would have to amend that quickly. Until he could see the respect in your gaze, and until he could be certain you feared him how he wanted you to, he loathed that stupid grin on your face as much it made his stomach churn.

It isn't fate or a miracle that brought us here Expecting nothing, it all remains so unclear Since I don't mind if you aren't really the best I'm sure that we'll be fine Come and hold me tight

Weeks and months did nothing to quell your troublesome nature. If anything, the more familiar you found yourself with your surroundings, the more you tried to bend the rules until they broke. Lucifer was aware of all of your antics - at least, he certainly hoped there weren’t any he was missing, because then he’d wonder if your feeble human body could handle all of that activity. Still, Lucifer was a man who knew how to pick his battles, no matter what his behavior with his brothers may say. More often than not, he warned against the stupid ideas he could see brewing in your mind, figuring that if there was no stopping you he could at least instill you with the proper sense of caution.

If he sat too long on the thought of how much trouble you really did cause, the only thought in his mind screamed the audacity! What kind of entitlement did you think you had? How could one human decide this realm was theirs to meddle with?

It was infuriating how much you managed to get wrapped up in, despite your inexperience. Perhaps it was that inexperience that had you scrambling about the Devildom like a new, untrained puppy that insisted on chewing everybody’s shoes? (This is why Lucifer never allowed pets, he realized. If his brothers couldn’t control a creature they could communicate with, how could they control an animal?) Maybe you assumed that being under the care of the seven demon lords meant you had some sort of immunity to the consequences of your antics. But being under their care did not mean they cared for you, and it was time that you realized just how lucky it was that you managed to survive this long.

Brash as it may sound, you weren’t anything special. At best, you were extraordinarily lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you enjoyed the exchange program); one human chosen out of billions. You had no standing here, not one of chosen status, no power or understanding of the magic that ruled the world around them.

It did work in your favor, if only a little bit. At least this way, Lucifer had no expectations of you coming in, so your disruptive behavior was no more disappointing than was to be expected. He had no image of you in his mind, nothing for you to contradict. It’s not as if you really cared what he thought, but it sure saved him the bother of reconciling his mental image with the unfortunate reality you were. Of course, that also meant that he didn’t always know what kind of trouble you were about to stir up, just that you would definitely stir up some trouble.

It isn’t until he hears a loud crash and your voice among the startled yelps that he realizes how much time he took from his reports to reflect on you.

Or rather….on your behavior.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

Yes, this was the best solution.

He noticed the way your shoulder tensed when you heard his footsteps. Have you learned the sound of his footsteps already? How cute.

You were sitting at a table in the library with Satan standing not too far away. Lucifer remembered Mammon begging someone to be your escort home so he could take care of some business with the witches, and after some arguing and a firm interruption by yours truly, Satan was tasked with bringing you home safely. Of course, he had to stop in the school library first - some human wasn’t going to force him to change his plans. You had the wisdom to take out an assignment to work on, clearly one of the easier ones that wouldn’t be too disturbed if you stopped in the middle when Satan was prepared to leave.

Lucifer didn’t plan on stopping in the library, but Diavolo was stuck in a separate meeting and he happened to be walking by, so why shouldn’t he check on the human in his charge?

He approached you with quiet, even steps, enjoying the way you went stiff as soon as he was near enough to start speaking to you. You looked to be expecting that, though, and he just couldn’t have that. No, instead he stepped directly behind your chair, placing one hand on the back of it so his gloved knuckles barely brushed against your shoulder. Bending at the waist, he leaned down so his chin almost touched your other shoulder, his breath ghosting your ear as he peered down at the paper in front of you.

“I see you’re taking your duties here in the Devildom seriously for once,” He started, his voice almost a deep purr. “Diavolo will be pleased to hear this report.”

You were fighting a shiver at the sound of his voice alone. He knew that you knew that he could feel the way you held back your shiver. That probably pleased him more than if you had actually done it.

“U-uh, yeah,” You stammered, fiddling with your pencil. “I’m just...trying to get some work done.”

He hummed, looking over your answers and taking his sweet time doing so. The longer he remained leaning by your side, the more he could hear your breath shallowing. Even if he was in charge of your safety, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a little bit of fun with the human that had a penchant for having too much fun with him.

Before you could swat him away, he quickly straightened himself out and patted your shoulder. Satan had returned by that point, just rounding the corner of a bookshelf and narrowing his eyes the moment he saw Lucifer. A second later, his eyes drifted down to you and he furrowed his eyebrows - clearly, Lucifer had affected you much more than he could see, and the thought made him preen himself on the inside.

“I trust you’ll keep up the good work. Keep an eye on them, Satan.”

His cold demeanor was back, and neither of you had anything to say about it. How joyful things turned out to be.

Much to your chagrin, Lucifer was a fast learner, and he took to flustering you just enough to keep you sedated when he felt you’d cause trouble. At first, all it took was a little invasion of your personal space, a targeted breath or a pat on the shoulder, all things you could easily brush off as just him trying to communicate a point the way humans do. After a while, you built up a feeble tolerance that he could send toppling down again by switching those pats to gentle strokes. He might be getting friendly with you, but you never made any attempt to push him away.

He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He could justify himself by saying this was the only way to keep you under control. Lucifer may not have been the avatar of lust, but he was never one to be shown up by his brothers. Seduction was an art form he had mastered long ago, and even if he wasn’t purposely intending to bed you, he was a maestro at using his skills to affect you. Besides, the faces you made and the way you flustered yourself when he was even in the same room as you was enough to encourage him to keep going.

It didn’t matter that, after a while, Mammon had convinced you to get back into his schemes. It didn’t matter that when Lucifer asked you sly questions about finishing your work, you had some response about needing to have time to make his life even harder.

There was no harm in trying to keep you charmed, was there? Not when you seemed to be enjoying it so.

It's no use to just regret all night long So instead of mourning why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, can't you see? Love me till I hurt oh baby, come dance the night away with me

This was a song and dance the two of you learned the steps to quickly, one that went on for much longer than it had any right to. This was a fact you realized when it, quite literally, culminated in a dance.

Lucifer considered himself a master of tact, figuring that he could settle your tomfoolery once and for all with a rather serious talking to. Maybe, since this time you conversation would happen in public with the prince as a witness, you might listen and take some of his words to heart. Or, in the worst case scenario, at least he could be sure to keep your attention for long enough to get a meaningful message across.

Getting you alone was easy enough. Though you were surrounded by some of his brothers, it seemed Mammon was the only other one interested in separating you from the group and was stumbling over himself in his efforts to make it happen. Besides, even with the way you disregarded every warning he gave you, at least you learned that Lucifer only ever asks as a formality. So, he found himself leading you by the hand to the middle of the floor, placing a hand on your waist as casually as one can and mimicking the way the others moved around you.

“What is it you’re plotting with Asmo?” In order to keep the conversation between the two of you, he leaned down slightly to mutter in your ear - not close enough to raise any suspicions, but close enough that you could certainly feel just how much he had you in his grasp. Moments ago, he had already made you aware of his intentions, so the shocked expression on your face really had no right to be there. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t find a sort of pleasure in the way he could practically hear your blood rush through your veins as you tried to keep up your facade of control. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were as easy to see through as you were frustrating.

“Let me make one thing clear,” He practically hissed, enjoying the way you shivered. “I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to Diavolo or us, then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Lucifer made sure to snake his arm around your back, holding you against him and gripping your hand with as much strength as he could without truly hurting you. He had effectively caged you in, making sure that you knew there was no escape from the way he knew things needed to be done. And you really needed to stop poking your nose into their business.

“I-I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer,” You answered, giving a pathetic tug to the hand in his grasp. Without responding, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you and relaxed his grip slightly. Somehow, you proved yourself to be a bigger fool than he originally thought.

“Well, that is not what I want.”

He watched your face fall at that, and there was the strangest coil in his stomach at that reaction. What, had you genuinely thought you could just waltz into the Devildom and call the Demon Lords your pals? What would you even have to gain from that?

Before he could admonish you further, Solomon appeared from the crowd, offering you a smile that was so casual it could only be practiced. For just a moment, his eyes flickered to your waist, where Lucifer’s grip was still strong - Lucifer didn’t dare loosen up, lest Solomon think he had any shame in being “caught.”

When Solomon asked to steal you away, Lucifer obliged, sending you off with what could only be described as a warning glance. You seemed relieved to be in the hold of somebody else, and Lucifer couldn’t blame you. At least you seemed to have some common sense about you. Still, he couldn’t deny the way the coil in his stomach only got tighter.

He figured it was just a result of both human exchange students being massive headaches and did his best to brush it away.

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me You're in my world now, away from reality As long as I can toy with you for just a moment Then I don't mind, if you aren't really mine

Perhaps Lucifer was a fool for thinking if he left you alone you wouldn’t fester.

You had managed to be so, so much worse than he ever expected you to be. It wasn’t enough to simply meddle in the affairs of the brothers so readily available to you - no, five demons were not enough to sate your endless need for trouble. So, in the few months you had been in the Devildom, you decided to somehow find the one brother he needed to keep hidden from you and, in the process of going against explicit orders, set Belphegor free and get yourself killed. For a moment, seeing your lifeless body in Mammon’s arms, Lucifer wasn’t sure what had thrown him off: seeing his brother free and knowing the punishment that was charging towards him fast enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it, or the mountain of paperwork that would surely come from this turn of events. Mammon’s desperate denial echoing through the entrance of their manor wasn’t exactly helping, either.

But then you did the only thing you did better than causing endless migraine for Lucifer: you fixed your mistakes and started building something better from them.

After you revealed yourself and let the brothers know that you were still alive - while also somehow airing everybody’s dirty laundry at once, something he made a note to talk to you about - he watched as somehow, slowly, his brothers looked at each other with the same appreciation they used to in the Celestial Realm, lurking just beneath the surface. Sure, there was still plenty of progress to be made, but he finally saw a fracture in the insurmountable mountain he had been facing for thousands of years - and it was all because of you.

With the churning feeling the thought brought him, he started to understand how love and hate were thought of as two sides of the same coin.

Leviathan could be found peeking out of his room slightly more often, gravitating to the room you were in with a handheld device and offering to show you what he was playing. Satan took his books out, too, sitting in the same room as you and occasionally casting what he thought were sneaky glances your way. Asmodeus insisted on spending more time with you in his own way, trying to hide the way he held your face in his hands a little longer than necessary by saying he was assessing the state of your skin. Beel seemed more open around you, occasionally dropping snacks in your lap without needing to be asked, giving you a look that seemed to both ask if you were alright and assure you that he was when you met eyes. Even Belphegor had warmed up to you, trying to sandwich himself in between you and anybody close to you or pulling you away to quieter spaces where he could nap in your presence. Lucifer watched as the unease gradually melted away from your expression with each attempt he made to get you alone, until you seemed to feel safe with him.

As usual, Mammon stayed by your side, especially in the days after your...incident. There were many times when you would sit on a couch in the common room, only for Mammon to come flying in moments later and sit so close to you he was practically on your lap. Lucifer bit his warnings for him to be careful back at least half of the time, deciding that this puppy-dog behavior at least seemed to be keeping the two of you out of trouble.

Trouble…

It only took your untimely death and a harsh reminder of just how close you had managed to get to his brothers to force him into realizing that trouble was all he ever thought you of. Lucifer couldn’t quite decipher why that left such a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the fact that since the incident with Belphegor, he had barely seen you. Honestly, he only saw you a fraction of the day compared to the amount of times he needed to usher you into his office to set you straight beforehand. As embarrassed as he was to be suffering through such...withdrawal, a long day of stress from his brothers had him summoning for you before dinner.

You only opened the door enough to squeeze yourself through, sneaking in as if he were a sleeping lion you shouldn’t dare to wake. He watched as you slowly made your way in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers the way you did when you were nervous. Strange. As far as he knew, you hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped that if you did, you had the wisdom to keep your mouth shut.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked in a small voice. Lucifer held you in a steady gaze, glad that Mammon decided not to follow you this time. He’d have known how much of an act this was from the get go and scold him for ‘making the move on his human.’

“Yes.” Lucifer took his sweet time shuffling through the papers on his desk, watching you through his peripheral vision. He could feel your stress levels rising as you waited for an unknown blow, watching as you subconsciously fidgeted the longer he let the silence go on. When he decided that he had teased you enough, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I merely wanted to see how our exchange student was doing.”

“H-huh?!” You asked. Indignation flashed on your face in the most wonderful display before quickly being taken over by your practiced calm facade. “O-oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well….yeah. I’m good.”

Clearly, you weren’t one for conversation right now. With a sigh, he leaned back and thumbed through the papers on his desk again before pulling one out of the stack and placing it in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached in his drawer and pulled out a small stack held together with a paperclip and dropped that one on top of the single sheet, holding back a smirk at the way you flinched.

“Good. Then I suppose we can get started on this paperwork about the whole accident.”

“What?!”

“Well, we still have to file an accidental death report. Or perhaps we should fill out an injury notice…? Ah, nevermind. It seems you’re up for both.”

He allowed you to turn on your heel and leave without another word. After staring at the now-empty space for a moment, he put the stack of absentee notices back in his drawer and continued on with his work.

It isn't jealousy or hate that made me act like that I'm not like her, so there's no need to get mad I know my way around this heat that we feel So don't worry, just enjoy Don't give me that look, boy!

You ran your hand down the side of your face, trying in futility to wipe the sleepiness from your mind. Sitting in the dimly lit office, you listened as Lucifer droned on about your test grade. The lecture had turned into a study session, which you appreciated, but it quickly turned back into a lecture after one too many mistakes on your part. You could see the irritation clear on his face, yet he was speaking to you as if you had just been caught plotting something treasonous against Diavolo.

You tried to huff quietly, but Lucifer’s sharp ears heard you. The stony glare he held you in woke you up instantly. “Oh, is this too boring? Perhaps that explains your performance.”

Already having been caught, you sighed. “No, Mammon has just been keeping me up lately.” It was too late in the night to think about how you accidentally ratted him out.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed so you could only see the red seemingly glowing with the rage he was hardly holding back. Stopping the pacing he had taken up an hour ago, he turned towards you and took long strides to stand in front of the desk until he was beside his chair. You kept your sleepy gaze locked on his eyes, a silent challenge for him to back down. What would he do to the precious, fragile little human while they’re half asleep?

With a sigh, Lucifer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his own way of breaking the stare-off without really admitting defeat. “I should have known he had something to do with this.”

“Hey…” If Lucifer ended up punishing Mammon for your own slip-up with your grades, you’d be feeling guilty about it for weeks. “It wasn’t really his fault. I should know by now how much studying I need to do…”

“Hmph. Since this leads back to him, I suppose I have no choice. The two of you are banned from seeing each other until I can come up with a fitting punishment and study regimen to set you both straight.”

“What?” You stood up from your chair, not changing how he literally looked down on you but feeling as if you looked more imposing. “You can’t just do that!”

“I will do what I must to keep you on track, as is my responsibility.”

“You cannot forbid me from talking to your brothers. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be my guardian?”

“You have more pacts, should the need arise. If he insists on hoarding your time as he has, then-”

“Oh, is that what this is about? I didn’t expect you to be so jealous about it.” You scoffed. “Now you’re really being a Mammon.”

“Do not compare me to him in that way ever again!” He barked at you, slamming a hand down on the desk with a loud bang! That shut you up quickly, and you watched Lucifer warily in case he lost control of himself. For a brief moment, the human glamour surrounding him faded and you saw a flicker of his wings, feathers splayed out and bristled in his anger. “This study session has gotten away from us. You may turn in for the night.”

Despite his mighty anger, the time you spent with him and your inherent recklessness left you unable to cower. The longer you stayed in a stand-off, the more pointed your expression got until you were giving him the most doubtful expression he had ever seen on your face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind spending these nights with you if they didn’t always end with you yelling at me.”

As if on cue, the D.D.D. you left on the desk lit up, allowing Lucifer a glimpse of the many messages and calls left by none other than the second brother. Fighting back a grimace, he watched you snatch it up and collect your books in a hurry. Some of the papers crinkled as you shoved them into your bag, but he didn’t wince - he did play a part in your haste, after all.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were going to vent to in a few minutes. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he had the distinct feeling he had ruined his chances at a goal he wasn’t aware he was trying to meet.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't take it so untie it as much as you please Close your eyes and stop your breath if you dare Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

He hadn’t intentionally softened up on you, yet he found that he took those words to heart.

After the incident in his office, you told him that you thought you’d study better on your own and improved your grade with your next test. In the weeks leading up to it, Lucifer could hardly get you to stop for him, only seeing you at dinner and when he would text you about urgent transfer student business. Even after he got word of your improved marks, he still had trouble getting to you for long enough to offer a proper congratulations. You really did prove yourself to be a ton of effort time and time again.

It wasn’t until you started to seek him out that he was able to properly communicate with you again.

You found him in the kitchen when he had dinner duty, on a rare night when he didn’t need to bribe someone to pick it up for him. He could feel your presence even with his back turned, aware of the way you leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms. He finished chopping the ingredients on the cutting board in front of him before looking over his shoulder at you curiously.

“Need a hand?” You asked. Something in your voice was different - more confident. Lucifer could hear the challenge in it, even if the details still hadn’t made themselves known.

He gestured to the small pile of dishes in the sink, not about to turn your company away. You nodded and started to run the water, letting silence settle between you. Finding himself watching you for a few beats too long, Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his chopped vegetables. He noticed that the second half were chopped a little more unevenly than the other pieces, and he quickly pushed them into the pan.

Clearly, you had taken a page from his book and decided to leave him in wait, biding your time before finally hitting him with your carefully chosen words. Unlike you normally were, he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, sweating in anticipation - but the longer the silence wore on, he found his patience wearing thin. Even if this performance of yours was amusing, he still found himself aggravated by just how far you thought you could push your luck.

Finally, you decided to speak up. “Have I been avoiding you these past few weeks?”

Lucifer didn’t let himself falter in stirring the pot on the stove. “I believe that’s a question only you know the answer to.”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been meaning to.”

“Based on our last meeting, that much has been hard to tell.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” You turned the water on to rinse the bowl in your hands, forcing him to wait until responding.

“With so many strong personalities now bound to you in pacts, it’s hard to tell how their influence will manifest.”

You gave him a bitter laugh, shoving your hands in the water until your palms flattened out on the bottom of the sink. The warm water felt hotter on the skin on your forearms that hadn’t been able to build a tolerance to it. Even if your intent was not to start a petty argument, his intentions clearly didn’t align with yours.

“No, I think I have to solid a grasp on myself to let them do that to me.”

He said nothing, but you could hear his confident footsteps as he approached you. His gaze met yours in a silent challenge as he slid the cutting board in the water, unconsciously allowing himself to gravitate towards you. When he got too close for you, you grabbed a spatulat from the bottom of the sink and gently pressed the flat end against his chest to push him away. Lucifer glanced at his shirt, clearly miffed at the damp stripe across his chest.

“You know, Lucifer, if you want a pact with me, you just have to ask.”

For a moment, the expression on Lucifer’s face was too convoluted for you to make sense of. He certainly didn’t look caught off guard, but he also wasn’t as furious as you thought he’d be. With his eyebrows furrowed together and his gaze searching yours, you couldn’t figure out where his shock and confusion ended and his anger began. You cursed him and how he always seemed to have a grasp on what he let you know through his expressions alone.

Lucifer stood there, hoping that the confusion on your face wasn’t covering something else that would force you away from him. He couldn’t understand how you always managed to pierce through him and see directly into his mind. As he was coming to understand it, he did want a pact with you. Certainly not because he saw how close those brothers of his were to you now, though - he was not the avatar of envy, and he had nothing to be envious of, especially in regards to them - but the thought of his mark on your skin, the thought of you belonging to him in such a way was undeniably appealing.

However, every interaction with you didn’t seem to push him in the direction of ever obtaining such a relationship with you.

Quickly gathering his wits, he only scoffed and went back to his post on the other side of the kitchen. You turned towards your job, too. This time, he wasn’t the only one ruminating in stubborn silence.

I don't feel no guilt, oh, is that so wrong? Ah, instead of asking why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, now you see Love me till I hurt oh baby, come over here and set me free

Asmodeus: You won’t believe what I just found out about the succubus I was telling you about yesterday! Satan: Have you gotten to the seventeenth chapter yet? It really is the turning point, in my opinion. Leviathan: ok thx Lucifer, YOU S*CK!: Heh, yeah, that’ll be perfect. Mammon: Oi, are you even paying attention to me?!?

With a sigh, you turned your D.D.D. off without responding to the messages and tucked it back in your bag.You were already on your way to the House of Lamentation. The brothers could (and would) bother you the moment you walked through the door.

“I’ve sighed like that many times,” Lucifer said beside you, looking down at you with a polite half smile. “My brothers are hounding you again, no doubt.”

“Yeah...they’re quite...affectionate.”

“That is a word you could use,” He agreed. “Though sometimes, not the most accurate.”

You chuckled them, purposely averting your gaze. Part of Lucifer wanted to direct your attention back to him so he could watch the pretty blush that painted your cheeks as you laughed, but he kept his hands to his sides. It was so difficult anymore to know what you were thinking. The closer he got to you, the more he learned to find comfort in your presence, the more he found the pesky feeling of hope cloud his judgement and his crystal-clear vision. How could he be sure that, now that the two of you were finally on good terms, you weren’t comfortable with the relationship? It had been so long since Lucifer had to forge an entirely new relationship, and he had the world’s most troublesome (or second most troublesome, considering your competition) human to work with. Though he was never one to question his own judgement, he still couldn’t help but tsk at the sheer absurdity of the task.

“This is probably the most peaceful walk home I’ve had in a while. It’s astonishing how easy they make getting caught up in trouble on the way seem.”

“Is that why the other day you seemed so shocked when we told you the walk was only a few minutes?”

You chuckled again. “Yeah. All the detours make it seem longer.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I should take you on a detour of my own then?” When you stopped walking, he turned back to give you a sly smile. “I’m not one to be bested by my brothers, you know.”

“Wow, ruthless,” You began walking again and fiddled with your backpack strap nervously. “Maybe I should be the one to plan it, though. I’m not entirely convinced your version of a detour wouldn’t involve more paperwork.”

“Shall I be looking forward to this date, then?” Lucifer could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. He loved to make you this flustered, so he could realign his sights while you were too preoccupied to hide behind anything. And you just so happened to be unbearably cute with your face turning red. The way you muttered ‘yes’ and dashed up the steps to the house had him preening.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours just keep dreaming it

Bit by bit, Lucifer found himself finally, finally getting closer to you without any unpleasant endings. (Well, save for the ones where one of his brothers interrupted and dragged you away, but the two of you shared a fondness for their shenanigans that made it difficult to stay mad at them.)

Or, well...staying mad at them was difficult for you/.

Lucifer wasn’t upset with his brothers, but there was a certain frustration bubbling up beneath the surface that he had to wrestle down every time he had a moment to wonder about their actions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend time with you - after all, he himself was trying to make himself time in your schedule. Not only that, but the ever-approaching end of the semester was looming over them, and everyone could feel the desperate attempts to get one last bid for your affections in before you left. The whole situation was rather distracting, his far-wandering thoughts only adding to the time he spent hunched over his desk instead of out with you.

Lucifer was not a man to waste time bemoaning facts that he could not change. That did not mean he was immune from all feelings of doubt or irritation. He might have been able to concentrate if there wasn’t such a pesky thought creeping up on him the second he let his mind stray from his papers. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly sensation of being caught in a competition where he might actually be losing.

Though he had faith in your tenacity - that and your boldness were truly qualities to marvel at - Lucifer did wonder just how much you valued availability. He thought that the two of you had come to a silent agreement - that you thought alike, that you felt alike - but as much as he knew what happened beyond the door to his office, you remained the enigma.

It would be so easy if he could just get you to admit that he was the one you thought of above all the others. The desire for such a simple statement, he hid with faux aggravation at your refusal to admit such a simple task. As much as he tried to convince himself that you were hanging out with the others as a replacement for him, he knew just how much and how uniquely you valued the others.

He didn’t need to use force to get what he wanted, but he was slightly accustomed to nothing standing strong in the presence of his power. You, however, never bowed, and it grated at him how much he wanted to rightfully earn that place in your heart and how difficult it was to just get you to say it.

His thoughts distracted him from his papers, his papers distracted him from his thoughts. They all distracted him from you, aside from when he wondered if you were thinking something similar about him.

Are you really asking why you're alone? Turned your back on me and I get why you don't want more Come back, hold me, dear, love me till I scream

Your departure was approaching, and Lucifer found himself alone.

His moments not spent on work or cleaning up after his brothers were normally spent with you. Unless, of course, those moments happened in the early hours of the morning and he should be dead on his pillow.

Perhaps if he found himself graced with your presence, he wouldn’t have slept anyway. It wasn’t sleep he was chasing, after all, but you. You were the one he was vying for, even if his pursuit felt less romantic and more like running after a wild goose. No good things came easy, he told himself. He didn’t need easy.

But your longing glances were getting harder to pull away from, and the days until you left were already in the single digits. It was hard enough to steal you away for a moment, let alone enough time to lay his intentions bare and finally get what you both wanted.

He hated the thought that he had let you take the lead in the relationship in a roundabout sense, so he preoccupied himself with anger over having to do all the hard work himself.

He could list off all the reasons you would return to him, the obvious choice, for hours if asked, and even then only put a dent in the miles of options. The fact that he even considered justifying himself to anyone felt foreign, but he let his mind settle on the thought anyway. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed how you didn’t try to leave the sides of his other brothers, how nobody bothered to knock on his door anymore, too preoccupied with you. He missed you already, and he hadn’t even seen you off yet.

Lucifer knew that you’d come to him eventually. He didn’t doubt you, and he certainly didn’t doubt himself. But you had a habit of making him wait and wonder.

He was just about tired of waiting, he was tired of wondering, and he didn’t know if he could take another dream that only left him more confused than he was when he fell asleep.

Don't you ever wake up baby, keep on dreaming our dream

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me swd #swd obey me #lucifer #swd lucifer #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #swd lucifer x reader #lucifer fics #lucifer fluff #mine #THIS FIC IS CURSED #IT TOOK ME LIKE THREE WEEKS TO ACTUALLY WRITE IT AFTER MONTHS OF TAKING UP MY BRAINSPACE #AND THEN I POSTED IT THE FIRST TIME TO THE W R O N G B L O G #anyway #not the MOST 100% proud with how it ended up #but proud enough to post it! #ready to throw this baby out into the bond like breadcrumbs to the duckies #y'alls.....are my duckies :3c #i'm gonna go punch lucifer and then kiss him now #and i'll do him more justice next time #kenna out (affectionate)

[lieutenant-amuel]

Can you please do Cristina and Princess Chloe

I sure can 😁 Thank you so much!

Cristina.

Favourite thing about them: she's super smart and wise. And the fact she's a child makes me admire her even more.

Least favourite thing about them: maybe, the thing she doesn't always speak up and share her opinion, even if it's the right one? She's very shy and uncertain, and I wish she was more confident, because she's actually got wisdom and rationality. And I'm a bit sad we didn't get to know how she and Isabel met. Seriously, I want to know more about their friendship.

Favourite line: "That's what I've trying to tell you all along. You're not Elena and you never will be. But you don't have to be Elena. You just have to be you."

BrOTP: Isabel, Quique, Amara, and Olivia.

OTP: don't have one.

NOTP: don't have again.

Random headcanon: she became a great dancer when she got older. I saw a plenty of performances of the wheelchair dancers, and it's truly incredible.

Unpopular opinion: honestly, I don't think there's any?

Song I associate with them: don't have one.

Favourite picture of them:

Chloe.

Favourite thing about them: she's just an adorable, selfless, and positive ray of sunshine. She's my second favourite royal friend character (first is Alonso), and I really love lots of things about her.

Least favourite thing about them: the way how easy she changes her opinion on things. She's a bit childish.

Favourite line: "Maliga! I'll stay, if you let my friends go."

BrOTP: Gabe (I will always curse "The Birthday Cruise" for making Elena Chloe's only friend. They even didn't interact before wtf 😭 and Elena saying "I invited my friend Mateo", because Gabe apparently is not her friend ✌🏻), Elena, Rebecca, Valentina, Alonso, and Maliga. Also, I'm not sure if the family relationships fit this category, but I honestly can't resist to say Abigail. I think they have a very close bond, and I'm really soft to the healthy mother and daughter relationships.

OTP: don't have one, sorry.

NOTP: Maliga. Call me a bore who doesn't get the point of crackships, but shipping a human character with a magical creature, even if they're humanoid, doesn't seem right to me.

Random headcanon: maybe, it's super random, but she loves knitting.

Unpopular opinion: I love that "The Birthday Cruise" was a Chloe episode. If it wasn't, Chloe would be the only Elena's royal friend who didn't get her own episode, and it would be very unfair. Chloe is a great character, and I'm glad she got recognition. The only thing I disliked about this episode - it didn't involve Gabe. It feels like a super wasted opportunity to me.

Song I associate with them: I don't have one, sorry or maybe, "I Have Friends" from "Crazy Ex-Girlfriend" ×)

Favourite picture of them:

#Ask me anything #Ask meme #Elena of Avalor #Cristina #Princess Chloe #I'm sorry if it turned out a bit aggressive but I'm just disappointed that 'The Birthday Cruise' doesn't involve Gabe #First of all it could have been a great opportunity to show his relationship with Chloe because really #he's the only Avaloran she knows #she had a crush on him or whatever it was #and Gabe isn't good at making friends either bc he was teased by the other guards and felt alone #SHE FREAKING TOLD HIM ABOUT HER FAMILY TRADITIONS THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE CLOSE #WHY IS ELENA HER ONLY FRIEND SHE SPENT ALL HER DAY WITH CHLOE'S MOTHER #Besides this episode could have explained what Gabe thought about Naomi's trip #This feels like a gigantic plot hole that he wasn't involved in this storyline #Seriously like yeah sure he's supposed to know she left but TELL me that #Anyway to not finish this post on negativity #I'll say I really love both Cristina and Chloe and they're one of my fave side characters #Queue

[chainofclovers]

This Way Up season 2 thoughts and feelings

We finished watching the second season of This Way Up last night (watched it in two sittings over Friday and Saturday) and I liked it a lot more than I thought I would though the season did feel uneven at times. The story also made me feel incredibly, incredibly sad, and my brain is so cluttered with thoughts that I'm not sure I'll be able to actually make sense of the show if I don't just go on and share my impressions, as scattered, self-indulgent, and based on the limited memory of a single viewing as they are.

Where was I when I was watching this season of television?

Physically, I was on the couch with my wife, repeatedly remembering and forgetting that the Olympics were happening. And so, interspersed with this deep dive into the mental health and personal and professional challenges of London-based Irish sisters Áine and Shona, I experienced some archery, skateboarding (those bros honestly seem tooooo cool to even want to come to something as embarrassingly earnest as the Olympics, but good for them!), and men's gymnastics.

Mentally, I was contemplating some significant professional (and, yes, personal in their way) life events that are neither here nor there for tumblr dot com. I was also considering the season two premiere of Ted Lasso and my fannish relationship to that show. For it is true--the person I was while watching season 1 of This Way Up is not the same person who watched season 2 this weekend, because in the meantime a 45-year old white man from Kansas (and every person he knows) managed to become my primary media preoccupation, and I am surprisingly chill about how not chill I am about this anxiety-ridden ray of sunshine/football coach (both footballs). But as we all know, being chill does not mean feeling chill. That make sense?

Anyway. This Way Up. It's about to become a mess of spoilers and feelings in here, so venture behind the cut if you dare!

For Obvious Queer Reasons I was extremely curious to find out what happens between Shona and Charlotte and Shona and Vish. As such, while it was uncomfortable to watch, I think my favorite scene in the whole season is when Shona and Vish have video chat sex and Shona has this intrusive memory of sleeping with Charlotte that feels like the ONLY moment in the entire season that she isn't performing or editing herself in some way.

My other favorite moment is when Charlotte talks about how upsetting it is to feel like a "lesson learned" chapter in Shona's autobiography.

I cannot believe I'm about to type these words, but I think the writing on this show might actually put too much trust in viewers to pick up on things. I know, this never happens! This is my dream! Why am I typing this? But hear me out. I think there are a lot of interesting parallels in terms of whether Shona and Vish (established, engaged, committed) and Áine and Richard (new, taboo [but is it really that crazy that she ends up dating the dad of someone she tutors?], exploratory) are truly able to listen to each other and accept each other's needs. It's about honesty or lack thereof, and it's also about what's really happening inside someone's mind. It's such an incredible moment when Richard tells Áine he likes that she's always so "up" and she has this private moment where you can see this heartbreak in her eyes because of course we know that she really struggles with her mental health and with depression. And I like that the show has both Bradley and Charlotte in the position of being on the overlapping outside of those relationships, offering their own wisdom from a place of really, really caring about Áine and Shona. But I just wanted MORE of that. This episodes are so short, and I needed there to be more of a tight story about those parallels, more of a sense that we'd hurtle towards some kind of revelation by episode 6.

I realize this is a thing about UK shows, but these seasons are just too short. The episodes are like 24 minutes long and there are only six of them and I felt that while you could create an effective season of TV with those constraints, this season jumped between scenes too frequently. I wanted to live in the scenes for longer. I didn't want to feel like I was watching the editing and decisions about what to show happen before my eyes.

If season 3 happens, my second biggest dream is that Bradley and Áine can have a conversation following up from the observation that it would be nice to be with someone they're just comfortable with (spoken while they're slumped on the couch together having one of the warmest conversations two characters share all season). My biggest dream is that Shona and Charlotte can have a respectful conversation about how Shona defines her sexuality. I want Shona to be safe explaining if she'd want to use the term bisexual or queer or pan or even lesbian or some combination of those terms. Not because the labels are the most useful thing, but because in this case it would be incredibly useful for her to force herself to choose some words, not in the context of feeling Vish-related pressure. To be brave enough to describe herself, and to be safe enough to know that Charlotte isn't going to make some snide comment about men. It's totally fair that Charlotte is so hurt, but she needs to be able to listen, too.

I do think this season does an incredible job capturing Shona's intense ambivalence about herself, and how she is SCRAMBLING to deflect from that by focusing on her sister, work, family, wedding-planning, the hen do, basically anything but dealing with her own little brain and heart. I mean, when COVID starts to arrive in their lives, it feels like she really wants Vish's asthmatic uncle to be the golden ticket they need to call off the wedding.

I have mixed feelings about how frequently Áine references the feeling of being an actor or the feeling of experiencing things as someone might in a movie or show or the feeling that someone else is treating her as an actor or character rather than as a real person. I think it's an interesting thing to write about, but upon first watch I struggled to figure out if it was a commentary on the other parts of the story or an additional thread Aisling Bea wanted to weave into an already incredibly short season of TV.

It was very jarring to have a COVID plot. The only mainstream media I've seen so far with a COVID plot is--LOL (to quote Áine, who says LOL so many times this season)--the final scene of the Saved By the Bell remake. Again I say LOL!!! I didn't hate it or love it, necessarily, I just thought it felt strange because we're still in the pandemic and everything is strange.

Everything with Tom was so, so, so painful. I don't know if I can even get into it. I just felt visceral devastation and was hurtled into strong memories about people in my own life who died prematurely. (Suicide but not only suicide.) The way the last scene ended felt like--immediate tears just pulled from my eyes without me even realizing what was happening. And God, the way Tom-in-the-flashback calls her a "soppy cunt" (I think?) and we realize Áine used those exact words to jokingly refer to Richard's previous girlfriend who was a human rights lawyer? GOD.

While Áine and Shona don't really engage with each other in the same way my sister and I do, my sister and I are also really, really close and I'm the older sister and watching this show always gives me a lot of emotions about siblings. This is actually part of why the rapid scene cuts and feeling that they both were leaving so much unarticulated stressed me out. Áine nails it at the end when Shona has finally told her about Charlotte and she says Shona needs to tell her more, but I wanted to SEE that conversation happen. I wanted to FEEL Áine's reaction, because Áine's reaction matters more than Vish's or their mother's or anyone else's. It was frustrating!

I dunno, y'all. I really love this show. I think it is exactly what it wants to be. I could not tell you today if I will ever rewatch it even though I (think I) still consider it a favorite. I honor and respect the fundamental messiness and pain and hilarity of this show. What a wild experience.

#this way up #this way up spoilers #meta by me #cw suicide #about me #this is all over the place but then again I am all over the place

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 7

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

sdfsfdgdfgf

^^^^^ my actual thoughts after writing this.

There was no denying that he was still thinking about that Saturday night. The feeling had been extraordinary. It’s been some time ever since he felt like this, but there was also something more. And he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

First thing he did on Monday when getting to work was to lock himself in his office, his thoughts empty as he repeatedly drummed a pen against his desk, his gaze hardly focusing on anything. He did call for someone though at some point, taking this waiting time as an opportunity to collect his thoughts into something comprehensible.

Some knocks were heard at the door, a single “yes” escaping Donnie, an approval for the newcomer to come in. Next came into view another turtle adorning a red do-rag, this one much more massive when compared to the bespectacled mutant. It was none other than Raphael, the muscular terrapin a rare sight in the building as he was often more out to meet clients than stuck behind a desk.

“What’s up?” he started, closing the door behind him. “I’m on a tight schedule, so it better be important.”

Raph did frown a little as he noticed his brother’s composure, the purple clad mutant’s eyes speaking volumes.

“I, uhm... I need some advice,” finally said Donnie.

“What kind? A client’s giving you troubles?” added the other, taking a seat.

Donatello tsked, quickly waving that query away: “No, I know how to deal with those. ... It’s more of a personal matter. A... relationship one.”

Raph’s eyes widened a little, then relaxing his stance with an amused smirk.

“Well, well, well... back in business, I see? I thought that receptionist situation would keep you out of the market for quite some time.”

“Oh please, that girl was crazy. I’m just glad she moved out of the city. ... It’s been more than a year, I’ve moved on.”

“What’s the matter then?” added the red clad terrapin. “You forgot how to socialize or somethin’?”

Donnie quietly chuckled, leaning back in his chair, then thoughtful.

“Oh no, I’ve been socializing, alright... I just don’t want to fuck it up, you know? Things have been going so well now and on this last Saturday we took it a lil’ further-”

“How much further?”

“We kissed.”

“Bro, that’s nothin’.”

Tension was broken for a moment, both brothers snickering. That did help Donnie and calmed his thoughts a little.

“Who is it though?” next asked Raphael. “Someone working here or... ?”

“She’s a project manager for our creative team. She got here from Montréal a couple months back and we met one night by pure coincidence as we were both working late. Her name’s Véronique, but I call her Vee.”

“Oohh, already on a nickname basis, now that’s a feat,” teased the other.

“Please, she asked me to call her like that on the first night we met.”

“Ay, you know I’m just pokin’ some fun at you. ... What’s the matter, then? Why aren’t you talking about that to Leo or Mikey?”

“Because,” started Donnie. “Leo would try to dissuade me into pursuing this relationship, and Mikey well ... you know him. He’d say: ‘Invite her to my place and have her swim in the pool. Girls love pools!’,” mimicked the purple clad mutant. “... You know he’d only want that so he can have a look at her as well. I ain’t having none of that shit.”

Raph laughed once again, acknowledging those statements.

“And, to be frank,” added the bespectacled one. “I value your judgement. You get straight to the point and that’s what I need right now.” He leaned foward a little on his desk, hands joined. “So my concern is; what should I do next? We have interest for one another - we openly expressed as much. We obviously have a good chemistry together... but how do I know she’s the one? ... She feels different from anything, anyone, I’ve ever been with before, may it be in terms of relationships or not.”

“Easy,” shrugged Raph. “Have sex with her.”

“Raph!”

“I’m serious! ... You wanna know if she’s the one? Show yourself vulnerable before her. If there’s something more between you two, it’ll click.”

Donnie sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing them in slight annoyance.

“Okay so what, I just have to sleep with her, no strings attached? I hope you’re not suggesting for me to force myself upon her.”

“Hell no, stupid. I said be vulnerable, not a psycho,” frowned the red clad mutant. “Look ... you wanted my opinion, there it is. I believe in deep connections, and if right now you’re already feeling something special between you two, I don’t see what’s bad about wanting to explore that and see if there’s truly something more. ... Also, people can fuck for the fun of it, I hope you know that?”

Donnie exhaled sharply, half of a smile next on his lips: “I suddenly regret asking for your opinion, but I do see your point.”

“I’m sure you can be a gentleman about all of that.”

“My brain turns to goo whenever I’m with her. I try not to show it, but damn... I don’t think she’d get to that point though, I don’t know...”

“As long as it naturally gets there, that’s what matters. ... Those things are felt, Donnie. I’m not saying to rush it, but rather to not be scared.”

The purple clad one conceeded, lowkey admiring his brother’s wisdom about the matter. He finally rose from his seat, inviting Raph to do the same.

“Alright, I won’t take more of your time. You’ve given me enough food for thought.”

“‘Bout time, I have to go Uptown, I’ll be late ‘cause of you,” Raph teased, playfully nudging his brother’s shoulder along the way.

“Har, har, very funny,” added the other, opening the door so both could exit the room.

As they were about to say their goodbyes, a voice rose, followed by the light clicking sound of hurried heels against the floor.

“Donnie, good timing!”

Both turtles turned their attention to a woman coming their way; Vee. She was holding a pile of documents, already taking some apart and then handing them to the tall terrapin when she was next to him.

“I’ll need you to sign some of these before Wednesday. Some designs for an upcoming project need an approval and I thought you’d be the best for that task. And I- ...” She stopped, finally noticing the other mutant. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Absolutely not,” smiled Donnie, properly holding the documents now. “We had just finished our small meeting, actually.” He gestured the woman to his brother: “Raph, this is Vee, our newest project manager addition.”

The red clad turtle grinned, extending his hand to the human in a proper greeting.

“Ah yes, Donnie mentionned you a couple of times.”

“Oh dear, I hope it wasn’t in a bad way,” lightly laughed Vee, shaking Raph’s hand.

“I would never,” reassured Donnie gently, his free hand instinctively resting at the small of her back.

A faint blush appeared on the woman’s cheeks, next adjusting her hold on the documents as her handshake with Raph ended.

“Not to be a party pooper, but I’ve gotta run,” she said with a smile. “I have a lot of stuff to hand out. Have a good day you two!”

She made sure to cross Donnie’s gaze before walking away, wanting to express her small longing to him. As she was back on her way, Raph did not hesitate to follow her frame, judging her for a moment. He finally looked back at Donnie with a look of approval.

“... Brother, you got taste.”

Donnie only replied by hiding his face with the documents he was holding.

***

Raph had said to not be scared, but Donnie couldn’t help still feeling that way. A part of him wanted to spend every moments with Vee, but on the other hand he didn’t want to appear too clingy or demanding. Gotta savor it like a fine wine, he’d try to reason. ... But frankly he just wanted to chug the damn bottle.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and so far he had only exchanged some words with her on Monday, then Wedneseday when he handed her back the approved documents he reviewed. Then he’d retreat to his office and think. And think. And think.

A ping from his computer got him out of his reverie, noticing a direct message notification.

His heart skipped a beat, his lips forming a thin line as he thought about what to answer.

Hey, wanna bang? Gosh, he felt dirty thinking about that... Keep it natural, Donnie, you don’t have to think about that for now. See where things go from there, naturally.

ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION. ABORT!!!! He felt so goddamn cheesy after sending that.

If it were up to him 100%, he’d get on his feet right this instant and sweep her off to anywhere she’d want to go. But he tried to keep it cool:

You’re the best one so far...

More like I’ll be lying down on the floor, a blushing mess. He couldn’t erase his smile, rereading again and again this conversation. He’d definitely have to think of something!

***

Later in the afternoon, as people were finishing their day, Donnie had reclused himself back into his drawing room, continuing some work on the Lowline plans. He was so focused that he did not hear Vee come in, the woman calmly making her way to his position.

“Hey...” she started softly, leaving a hand on his shoulder.

Donnie gasped, his hand holding a pencil jerking and leaving a long mark on the paper. Both froze, eyes wide as they witnessed the horror.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you that much!” apologized Vee, already on the look out for an eraser. “Here, let me help you with that.”

“No it’s alright. I, uh...”

Donnie’s sentence died as the woman was now hunched close to him, already removing traces of that nasty mistake.

“I could’ve done it. I...”

His voice was hushed, having a hard time to keep focus on Vee’s movement, prefering to look at her features instead.

“I ... I could do it,” he added.

Vee slowed her movement, finally looking at Donnie.

“Do what?”

He paused, his heart drumming in his chest.

“This...”

He delicately placed a finger under Vee’s chin, not even needing to move much in order to bring them both closer for a soft kiss. The woman was surprised at first, but she quickly melted, not even denying that she had been craving the feeling as well since that Saturday night... She dropped the eraser, her hands prefering to trail along the mutant’s scales. As they broke the kiss to breathe, Donnie brought her closer to his sitting position, Vee now standing inbetween his legs. No words needed to be said, this sudden electrifying feeling passing through them. The terrapin’s hands couldn’t get off of her, either lost in her hair or tracing her back. The more they joined in a kiss, the more they wanted to be closer. At some point the turtle acted on instinct as he rose up, his hold on the woman’s hips as he laid her against the inclined drafting board. The paper crinkled underneath, but he gave no care in the world about that. Their kiss was heating up, a low pleasured churr rumbling in Donnie’s chest as he stood close to Vee’s core, feeling her desire as strong as his.

The distant sound of people talking and laughing, still around and about to exit the building, brought them both to a stop - looking at the room’s entrance, as if afraid someone would pop in at any second.

Both were lightly panting, their smiles shy after what happened. Donnie took that moment of grace to study Vee’s features, gently brushing away some wild strands of hair off her face. He straightened his stance back up afterward, helping the woman back on her feet.

“Welp, and here I came only to wish you a good evening,” chuckled Vee, adjusting her clothes.

“I’m sorry,” added the mutant in a similar tone.

“Don’t be ... I liked that.”

She rested her hands on his chest, slowly rubbing the fabric of his shirt over his plastron.

“I can’t stay late tonight, but I won’t prevent you from doing so. ... Just don’t stay here too late though.”

“No promises.”

“Please, don’t overwork yourself,” softly pleaded Vee.

“Don’t worry...” he reassured with a smile, a hand cupping the other’s cheek.

They added one good evening kiss. Nothing more, nothing less. A pleasant omen for feelings to come...

((Part 8))

#it's-a-moi #business au #dammmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnnn #usual sorry if there's mistakes #I need to go to bed right now #BUT I COULDN'T STOP WRITING FSDJFHBSDBFBSDHFBSD

[deathvalleyusa]

day’s eye

Summary: In the eyes of a child named Daisy, Alfie Solomons is a thing of adventure books and mythical tales. As she grows he seems to morph to even more mythical proportions. That is, until Margate shows Daisy just how mortal and human Alfie is. ONE SHOT.

Characters: Alfie Solomons, Child OFC, OFC

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Language, S5 spoilers

A/N: Wrote this a while ago but only recently picked it up again. I had plans to write a fic about Nora (Daisy’s mom) and Alfie but this ended up happening instead lol. x-posted from AO3.

When one grows up without a father, people assume a terrible fate befell him. The War. An accident. Perhaps he had found himself in trouble with one of the many gangs that ran the streets of every city on British soil. His absence could be explained away.

When one grows up without a mother, death is often called upon as the excuse as well. Childbirth. Influenza. Beatings no one saved her from.

But in certain cases, the father is simply gone and the mother still lives and breathes. Daisy was one such case.

Her mother, a lovely woman named Nora, had dreams. Visions of a house, a garden, and a job to keep her steady. Daisy was a part of the vision, but not a part of the journey thus far. So at her grandparents cottage she stayed. Six years old, knowing her mum was somewhere else, trying her hardest.

The day Nora came for Daisy was one of excitement. Tears. Good-byes from her Papa and Gran, hugs that melted into her skin. A buzzing ecstatic feeling as they boarded the train, heading to a place called London.

"It's all new there for us, Daisy," Nora had said. Pretty in her makeup and burgundy cloche hat. "A life for us, eh? Me and my girl?"

Daisy was not expecting to meet a man that week.

At six, she'd met her fair share of men from her grandparents' village. Her mum had never brought around anyone other than her uncle Harry. So this man was something new entirely.

Daisy had thought he maybe had been a bear before he was a man. Towering and scruffily bearded, he was an odd one.

"This is little Daisy, then?" He had asked. Voice low, accent unlike the Liverpool one she had lived with all her life. He spoke with a curiosity and a kindness, deep blue eyes twinkling.

"That's her," Nora answered, beaming. "Daisy, this is my lovely friend Alfie."

He offered a hand. Daisy stared, then gave a glance to her mum. A supportive nod, and her tiny hand met his.

It was not unlike her grandfather's, or Uncle Harry's. Worn and slightly rough on the pads, work showed it's time through calluses and small light scars. It was warm though, gentle as he shook hers before enveloping it in another large hand. Daisy couldn't help but admire his rings and the small crown tattooed into his skin.

Like a man from the pictures, she thought to herself, giving a pleased smile. Like a pirate. Or a king.

One thing Daisy learned, as she spent more time with her mother and Alfie, was how much he spoke and how rapt her mother's attention was to his words. He spun stories, rambled about the folk about town. Posed hypotheticals at Nora who would answer after a long pause. Alfie would always include Daisy, posing the same questions or asking about life in a quiet village.

Years passed. Daisy, in her infinite child wisdom, came to understand some of the nature of Alfie besides his sweetness. That he was just as she had suspected, a pirate and a king. He terrified others, kept the men in the bakery in reverence of him.

She came to understand her mother as well. A woman with muted glamor, someone with quiet dreams that slowly seemed to materialize. She was not the princesses or damsels in the films or books Daisy consumed. No, she was something of a beautiful warrior.

Daisy thought of herself as an adventurer. No one feared a child of her age, and she had no one who needed her protection quite yet. Instead, she was a wily spirit, content with exploration during the day and a cozy home with her mother, and quite often Alfie, at night.

It came as no surprise at the age of nine when Alfie sat her down and explained he had asked her mother to marry him. Truly, it felt like a long put off event, and Daisy had just wanted it over and done with.

Alfie's laugh filled the sitting room when she told him.

"It's not always that simple, Daisy Bell," he said. "But I'm pleased, your mum expected you to take the news hard. Not sure why, but you are full of surprises, yeah?"

And so, on one afternoon that had gifted pockets of sun, Daisy watched as Alfie made her mother his pirate queen. Daisy, in turn, became a pirate as well. And with her new place as the daughter of a pirate and a king came new lodgings.

Not a ship, but a house with many rooms. A place for her toys and baubles, and a new wardrobe to hang the pretty things her mother liked to dress her in. Daisy quite liked to sneak into Alfie's study, staring at the little collections that lined shelves. On the occasions she snuck in while he sat at his desk, he'd call her over with a wave of his big hand. A sweet would appear, followed by a kiss to the head.

"Don't tell your mum," he'd whisper in gruff tones, "or she'll 'ave both of our heads for spoiling your dinner."

It was those moments she liked best, when the two of them would hold a small secret. Daisy knew Alfie and her mother had their own secrets, whispered under their breaths as if Daisy would pay it no mind. Talk of bread, of a man named Shelby. Nothing that ever reached her in her fortress.

And in that fortress protected by men led by Alfie, who as Daisy neared eleven, seemed more pirate than king, she thrived. Played with the other children, took pockets of Yiddish they taught her home to practice with her mother. Spent hours feeding treats to Cyril behind her parents’ backs. Tormented Alfie's men with silly games and questions they usually had no answer to. Ollie was her favorite. He had taught her to play cribbage in the moments where his time wasn't completely occupied with Alfie's commands.

There were long stretches where Alfie did not return home, only giving a phone call to calm Nora's nerves. Her mother would get whispered conversations; Daisy was given sweet words and a gentle good night or morning. Daisy contented herself with this, until one day Alfie did not return.

************

"He's gone to Margate," Nora explained, rubbing at her tired eyes. They seemed to grow more tired with each passing year. "I haven't heard from him yet, Daisy. Perhaps tomorrow we'll get a ring."

The call did not come. Daisy thought of terrible fates that befell kings and pirates. How easily it could happen to a man whose business kept him in hushed conversations. How her pa, dear Alfie, could be struck down in crossfire with the polished guns he kept locked in his study.

When a letter came, and with it a terrible wail from the beautiful mouth of her mother, Daisy knew she was right. Wished it not to be so; that there had been a terrible mistake and the news written was wrong. But sneaking a look at the letter when her mother had finally let it out of her grasp, Daisy found her worst thoughts had not been bad enough.

Alfie's wonderful handwriting lay before her. Asking forgiveness of Nora, then of her. A betrayal to the Shelby man detailed Alfie's demise. A desire to end a painful, cancerous existence that he had never spoke of to Daisy.

Another letter detailed his condition. Alive, but for how long would be up to him. Where he could be found in the winding streets of Margate.

With no noise, she returned the letter to it's envelope. Daisy took care to walk quietly, letting herself hang at the entry of her mother's room. For the first time in many years, she crawled beside her in the vast bed, letting a desperate hug melt into her skin.

On the eve of her twelfth birthday, the house with many rooms lay barren. Everything had been packed and sent to Margate, which Nora explained would become their new home. Daisy had seen her mother hold back tears as they locked the doors for a final time. Her house and her garden that had materialized out of her dreams since Daisy was very small was no more.

Camden Town had too much risk lying to the north to bring Alfie back even in secret. He was no longer a king, but a ghost of one. They were to follow the ghost, live in a haunted home by the sea.

In that haunted home, Daisy helped place Alfie's collections and her baubles on shelves. She ignored the moans from the guest room, which had become a makeshift hospital ward. Instead she practiced her piano and read on the balcony to avoid the noise. Wished that Cyril, wherever he had gone off to, was by her side to help her ward off the ghost that lived here.

Alfie haunted her, night and day. He haunted her mother more, once he became more coherent and spoke his rambling nonsense to her. More than once she had heard Nora's voice raised behind the oak door, and no reply from Alfie. Her mother was not an angry woman, but Margate in those early months had sparked like a flint and filled Nora’s glamorous face with a rage-fueled fire.

As time passed, Daisy returned to her schooling. New friends were found, and so was a sense of normal. Her mother’s anger had become smoldering coals, and she started to leave the house. Sometimes for pleasure, other times for business still left from Camden Town. Daisy wondered often if Alfie, who remained behind the closed door, envied their comings and goings. She wondered more if he missed her, months separating the moment she had seen him in a gauze mask till now.

***********

On an unremarkable Sunday afternoon, her mother had gone out for some air. Daisy had been left to her own devices, plunking out a song on the piano in the sitting room. A voice, one she hadn't heard in more than a gruff whisper in weeks, sang out:

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do!”  

He was awake. Calling to her, it seemed, with a silly song he'd sing to tease since she was small.

"I'm 'alf crazy, all the love for you!”

Daisy rose from the piano bench, wood upon wood scraping quietly before feet plodded to the guest room she avoided. Now, though, the call from within was irresistible.

The door groaned silent as she peeked in, black curls slipping around her shoulders. There in bed lay the man she called father. A man in a pitiful state, but lucid.

"Daisy Bell, sweetie." he managed to crack a smile. "I'll cover up this nasty face of mine if you like, yeah, I just need to see that cherub one of yours."

She stepped in, trod closer.

"It's all right," Daisy remitted. "Will it always look like that?"

Alfie took consideration. "It won't always be as red, yeah, but it'll still look like a gnarled fucking tree. Maybe it'll smooth one day, but it's stuck, love."

"Then don't cover it," she said quietly. "If it's forever, I need to get used to it."

"Wise words from the mouth of babes."

"I'm nearly thirteen." A slight bristle shook through her voice, reminding herself of her mother. "I'm no baby."

"Is that right?" Alfie shut his eyes, heaving a grumbly sigh. A few beats passed, and he opened his good eye. Deep blue, like the ocean at night. Daisy sometimes sat on the balcony of their townhome and watched the waves roll in and out. Alfie's eye held no waves, just stillness.

"Well, if you're such a grown woman now, with wisdom and maturity beyond all our years, right, you'll fetch your dad a thimble of whatever Mum's got in that fancy bar cart she had to have, yeah? A secret between us grown ones, so I can partake of the earthly pleasures again."

Daisy's face hardened. "Mum says you can't."

"A biscuit then. With a strong cuppa." Noting her doubtful looks, he gestured to his face. "The tea to soften the biscuit so this old man can chew softly."

Daisy gave him a doubtful look, but obliged. Wondered how many times he'd asked for small tokens from the nurse or her mother and was promptly shut down. She returned, biscuits and tea in hand.

"You have my undying gratitude, Daisy Bell," he said.

He seemed quite happy, but Daisy couldn't tell if the biscuits or her presence was more the cause. As he dipped a corner of the biscuit into his tea, she thought how silly it was for a ghost to enjoy afternoon tea. She couldn't help an amused smile.

"What's that you're giggling about?" Alfie asked. His own mouth drew into a devilish grin. "You do something funny to these biscuits, ey?"

"No," Daisy replied, smiling wider. "It's a silly thought is all."

"I haven't heard silly thoughts in some time, just a nurse droning on and on about health and tablets. Indulge me."

For the first time in many months, Daisy felt heard again. Hands grabbed the wooden chair next to the wardrobe, scooting close to Alfie. She even let her forearms rest on the side of his bed, close enough to feel warmth not usually becoming of a ghost.

"Well you see," she started, "when we met when I was very little, I saw your rings and tattoo and thought of the men in the books my Gran would read to me. All while we lived in London, I thought of you as a pirate king."

"Is that so?" he chuckled, taking a sip. "Reckon you were a pirate princess then, weren't you?"

"Something like that." Daisy grinned before looking away at the wall. "After Mum got the letter and we couldn't bring you home… Well, I felt like you were a ghost. Like I've been living with a ghost this whole time in Margate."

Alfie didn't respond. Daisy had known he wouldn't; the wound on the soul was still as raw as the scar on his eye.

"But just now, seeing you eat,” she continued, “I found it quite funny to see a ghost eat a biscuit and enjoy a cuppa. All ghosts should be that funny, I think."

"Do you?" Alfie heaved a great sigh, then chuckled. "Better to be a ghost with a sense of humor and an appetite for sweets than a man who's lost both, yeah?”

Daisy nodded. The more she let what he had said rattle about in her mind, the more she came to understand the thankful truth of it. Though she mourned her pirate king, Cyril, and the house with many rooms, Margate and its ghost with his biscuit and tea had their own comfort.

She once again was a child who had a father with a terrible fate that had befallen him. A dozen excuses could be made for his absence but Daisy knew this time, at least, that in secret he still existed. The little secrets they shared had grown to one of great magnitude, like ones of novels and myths.

“I’ve missed you.”

Alfie, who had finished one of his biscuits, eyed her up with that twinkle she loved so dearly in the still dark blue iris. The cup clinked against the saucer as he set it on his lap covered by a blanket. Daisy felt the familiar roughness of his hand as it grasped hers.

“So have I, Daisy.” He gave her hand a squeeze, the feeling less ghostly than she had imagined. “Someday, I promise you, I’ll be out of this terrible fuckin’ bed and you and I can do whatever pleases your sweet heart.”

“That could be a very long time,” Daisy answered. “Is it okay for me to come back in? Will Mum be upset?”

Alfie took a pause.

“I don’t think so,” he decided. “And if she does get upset, it won’t last. The rotation of faces will do me good, yeah? That nurse sometimes makes me feel more ill by her presence alone, she’s got a particularly sour smell to match her face. The sooner I’m out of this room, the better I’ll be, I think. The sea air’ll do me some good, don’t you think?”

Daisy nodded again, vigorously. If Alfie thought the sea and the wisping salt against his face would help him be less a ghost and more a man, she would believe it too.

“We can go walking together,” Daisy suggested. “In the afternoons when I come home from school. And all day on weekends. Mum said she’d buy me a swimming costume for the summer, maybe we could swim—”

Alfie interrupted with his distinctive laugh, a near giggle unexpected from such a large man. The first time Daisy had heard it she had been taken aback, only to laugh along. Hearing it now was like a balm slathered on a skinned knee.

“We’ll start with a short walk, sweetie, then think about swimming in the next distant summer when these limbs can carry this old man easier. If I try to swim now, right, I might be swept away into the sea and some fantastical creature may happen upon me and drag me to its home in the depths. You believe in mermaids, love?”

“No.” Daisy sat back in the chair. “Not anymore.”

“Pity,” Alfie answered. “I saw one once at a carnival; pretty thing with a tail blowing bubbles under the water. If anything were to drag me out to sea, I’d choose her.”

“Stay on land, then!”

Alfie looked at her, quieted by her outburst. Daisy hadn’t meant for the words to leave her mouth so loudly. But all the talk of leaving once more sent her deep into a place of fear.

“I don’t want you to leave again,” Daisy tried once more in a softer voice. “I don’t want you to even try.”

“Then I won’t,” Alfie replied simply. “I’ll ignore all those siren calls I hear from the beach and stay right here, on your orders. You’re the boss, then.”

“Mum said she’s the boss now.” She shifted in her seat, wondered how cold the tea sitting on Alfie’s lap had gone. “Her and Ollie, she says.”

“Right then, you’ll just have to be my boss, won’t you?” Alfie shut his eyes. Daisy inspected his face, riddled with red scars and the patches of scaly rashes around his scalp he had explained as an affliction called psoriasis when she questioned it. He opened his good eye, giving her a quick smile. “Keep me in line and give me my orders to follow. First order is no following mermaids, got that love, what else should I heed from you?”

Daisy had never had that kind of power before, giving orders to an adult. The men at the bakery heeded her silly requests before, yes, but Alfie had always been the one to bark orders. As a child on the cusp of thirteen, it was an immense responsibility. She racked her brain, lips pursed as she ignored Alfie’s amused face, before settling on one.

“Get well fast,” Daisy finally said. “And don’t make Mum cross again, I’ll know if you do.”

“A tall order, that last one, but I’ll do my best,” Alfie grunted, tapping her hand before saluting her. “Yes ma’am.”

#alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons #peaky blinder fanfic #i love soft alfie fics ok bye

[silverandsoulbonded]

A Life of Stories - Soulbonding and My Story

It’s the late 90’s. A tiny child sits in the grip of wonder on the carpet two feet from the old, analog television screen. The volume is turned way down on a Saturday morning, so as not to wake the parents. And Digimon: Adventure is playing.

That kid was me.

I spent the next several days telling anyone and everyone I knew about the trials and bravery of my favorite new friends on the TV. Taichi and his Digi-pals.

Every Saturday morning I tuned in with wrapped attention to check in on my friends. Because that is what they were. I could not explain it at the time, and looking back I see that I did not understand just how powerful my love for them was, but over the years I began to notice the disparity between my experience and that of others. The glazed looks I received when I tried to communicate just how much the “stories” around me meant to my heart and spirit.

As I grew, so too did my well of worlds. When it was not Digimon, it turned to Batman and the DC Animated Universe. Over the years, as things became harder and harder for me in an unsafe household, I would reach out to those stories for safety and comfort. In the dead of night, listening to shouts, I would silently pray for Batman to come in and save me. I would think about Static, from Static Shock, and his bravery. I would long for the Justice League to show me hope.

I grew up in a conservative Protestant Christian household, and I was quickly taught from the moment I could understand stories that they were not real. It seemed a strange double-standard to me, as we read of Jesus and his amazing feats, recorded centuries ago by the hands of men but somehow “different” than the other stories I consumed, which also taught me and affected me just as emotionally.

It would not be until adulthood that I could finally articulate this incongruity I felt, much less possess the bravery and personal freedom to think about it on my own terms. To set aside the pre-packaged “truth” I had been fed growing up in order to find my own fresh fruits of wisdom and meaning.

Stories. Stories are what sustain humanity. All we have are stories. Even the perceptions we store in our brains are only that. Perceptions. Stories. We can never truly know what an orange is, or who a person is. We only can know our perception of them, and the story of them that lives on within us.

And, sometimes, those stories speak to us in the most fantastic and magical of ways.

Fast forward to 2021.

I am an adult. A practicing witch and pagan. An artist and writer. I am functional and thriving. And I have an unusual family.

Some of the most important people in my life do not exist on the physical plane of this Earth quite the same as other friends of mine. They exist in the subtle realms of Dream and thought and wonder. Over time I have come to find many names for them. Spirits, guides, and “soulbonds”.

I began my foray into the community of “soulbonding” when I began to sense, or rather, acknowledge the living quality of some of the “characters” I was writing about. One character in particular, a being who introduced himself to me in a dream, had me particularly flummoxed. I called him Asura, and from the moment he entered my life through that dream, my entire world changed. It was akin to stepping onto a roller coaster car while it was still moving—except this roller coaster had no track and no limits. His entire presence permeated my life, my thoughts, my daydreams. I wrote about him, and it was my writing about him that led me to thoughts, questions, and explorations I would have never dared otherwise. By finding him, he led me to find myself, and for that I shall be forever grateful.

At some point, I, and even my closest friends, became aware of a “spookiness” about my dogged pursuit of this mysterious character. I started to know things about him and his world, and make connections in his story, that seemed to come out of nowhere but which all cohered together perfectly. Without a fault, I would learn tidbits about him that would suddenly fit with another thing I learned later, though I never had to strain to achieve such things. It was not so much that I was “creating” the story so much as “recording” it. There were elements of his story that overlapped with our world’s history and it was spooky as all get out when I learned about historical facts through his story and later found them to also be reflected in my own world, which has a similar timeline to his. A sort of “sibling world” to his.

We also noticed the tremendous power of my emotional connection to him and his friends. My boyfriend at the time even became jealous of Asura, though I assured him that was absurd. “Asura is just a story,” I would say. And my boyfriend thought the same yet he, and others, seemed unable to ignore the fact that there seemed to be something weird going on.

And, one day, with horror, I realized I was in love with Asura—fortunately, by that time I had since broken up with my boyfriend—but the idea terrified me. Unsurprisingly, this sent a conservative Christian “good kid” such as myself down into a spiral of questions and disbelief.

I felt the imposter syndrome. I thought, “I must be insane.” Yet, no one, myself included, could deny the reality of this connection I felt.

Over time, Asura and his friends began to speak to me. They guided me and provided loving support to me. I, at the time, figured I was either crazy or eccentric.

“Maybe this is a writer thing,” I thought.

And it was that thought that led me to soulbonding. I learned of other writers who also had their “characters” come alive to them. Alice Walker, author of the famed American work, The Color Purple, allegedly purported that she had received her story straight from the characters’ mouths one afternoon, during which she sat down to tea with them and learned their tale. And that is when I found a forum site called “The Living Library” (now defunct), and learned the term “soulbonding”.

In that community I found others who echoed my story in various ways. Deep personal connections to entities from other worlds, many of whom they found depicted in the flourishing ecosystem of thought and imagination, stories, that surrounds the human race. Others, discovered their unconventional friends via dreams, visions, or odd circumstances just like myself. One person I met had actually found one such friend first, in this instance a version of Edward Elric from “Full Metal Alchemist”, before learning years later—with a start I imagine—that Edward actually had an entire manga and anime about him.

I say “version” because another amazing phenomenon I discovered was the occurrence of many instantiations of people, characters, from infinite worlds, all with slight variances from one another. That is when I was introduced to the idea of Multiverse Theory and Many Worlds Theory.

As my personal investigations led me down various spiritual rabbit holes, and eventually led me to spirit-working and witchcraft, I found more and more ideas that seemed to jive with my experience.

I discovered what are colloquially called “pop pantheons” in occult circles. Pantheons of spirits and deities who connect to pop culture figures in human society—and even figures from “fiction”. And there is a whole, thriving community of people who lead successful, fulfilled, and meaningful spiritual lives working with these entities. I learned that reality and “truth” are not objective like I had been taught so long ago. And I finally understood MY truth—all we have are myths and stories. Experience is subjective and the only measure of meaning and truth we have is in the effects we see in our own lives.

With tremendous wonder and happiness, and even love, I have seen the effects my unconventional friends and family have wrought in my life. Asura is my familiar spirit now, and I have a whole host of other beings whom I love. Some come from “personal gnosis”, or unique experience, such as Asura. Others are beings who have come to me from the vast world of collective Dreaming that permeates our world, evident in media sources, in the form of stories.

I still have moments of doubt. I sometimes wonder, “Gee-golly-whiz, am I NUTS?” But then I remember that my truth exists only in my own experience. My ethereal family brings me happiness, growth, and meaning. And there really is no difference between my relationship with them and the relationship I had with Jesus so long ago. Every experience is real to me, and brings with it change and good. And that is what matters.

In this blog I intend to share my experience, in hopes that it can offer a beacon to others in similar situations. Every person’s experience is unique, though I hope mine can at least offer some hope, understanding, and love to another.

Cheers.

And happy story-telling.

- Cosmic

#soulbond #soulbonding #spirituality #spirits #spirit-work #spirit #stories #writer #writing #poppantheon #pop pantheons #occult spirituality #witch #spiritworker #spirit work #my story #my post #SILVERfamily

[dharmadischarge]

Top 5 Novels: or it gets dark around here early.

So now I am trying to say something. That is all. No, that will not do at all... Here is a list of my top 5 novels, with one short review and four long ones.

1, Jim Dodge - Stone Junction. Reading Stone Junction by Jim Dodge is like meeting the father you never had

2, Thomas Pynchon - Gravity's Rainbow Subtlety is overrated... and just because you have a boner doesn't mean you're a terrorist. I mean, it doesn't mean you're not causing those rockets to come from the sky. But, still, that is beside the point.

For me, this book is about obliterating the arbitrary distinction between high and low culture. The ironically arbitrary distinction between good and evil and the dangerously subtle distinction between despondency and hope.

Fractured, layered, elusive, you could accuse Pynchon of all these things.

The way characters bleed into one another to make one voice. A hellish symphony of discordant cries of pain reaching out to a belief that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and paranoia is the glue.

Also, it is funny. Like in a dumb way and there are songs. Also, dumb.

Everyone will talk about how polarising this book is but I don't believe it. you can follow the bouncing ball and sing along or live in fear that at any moment the terror will become real and you will collapse into ellipsis...

It is the third and newer testament. An epilogue to western culture as racist cultural energy written by a crazy white guy. T.S. Elliot and his wasteland were a prelude, in hindsight, nothing but a john the baptist-like figure for the cross that Pynchon presents to all readers as their burden to carry with this book.

Hope is crazy painful, consciousness is such a fragile thing and the burden of consciousness is the pain of knowing that (beyond the act of effort itself) it is a futile one.

Jim Dodge once said, "a stone falls till it hits the earth, transcend what?" and that about sums it up.

3, Cormac McCarthy - Blood Meridian.

Blood Meridian is a kind of repetitious, primeval-hillbilly level of primitive interpretation of the morality expressed in the book of revelation fighting its way onto the page as barely literate poetry.

It is not a book of social niceties, justice, or the warm feeling you get when you do something good. also, this book could also easily be seen as porn for serial killers.

I scanned the reviews and saw all the campy (and not the good kind of campy) parodies this kind of book inspires in the age of irony we live in (though it seems like it is on its last legs). And while I like me a good parody, I find that Eli Cash did it better.

There is something to be said about how Cormac McCarthy (ab)uses the English language. The one good line I read from one of the negative reviews of his books was that a middle schooler could list what he doesn't like about the kids who bully him and that this list would have more emotional nuance and better use of punctuation than a Cormac McCarthy novel. This is fair.

The conceptional power of Blood Meridian though is that it frames cruelty and violence for what it is: reality. While also through its sometimes monotonous exaggeration of William Faulkners styled repetitions it creates a sense of unreality. A sense that like David Lynch's best work that we are walking, daily, through something so evil and violent that it borders on slapstick, and at last we laugh in self-defense.

I think the people who parody the book without much thought got trapt in the intellectual self-defense state that is part of coping and couldn't see the forest for the trees.

Civilization is a fragile thing, it is the human race trying to domesticate itself, and the longer it goes on the more it seems like we're just sweeping what we don't like under the rug.

4, John Crowley - Little, Big.

There is a kind of hokey-Americana style kitsch that most of my favorite writers could be accused of, from, Tom Robbins to Jim Dodge. John Crowley may be the peak of it. It could be because on the surface Americans don't have a unified culture we are a melting pot with capitalism only encouraging the lowest common denominator (the pursuit of greed as its own reward).

But in any creative act that does not presume to be the literal expression of anything but pure gratitude, there is politics. The politics of worth, of greatness, inherent value, and the desire to prove that the wisdom offered was truly earned. That a difficult pleasure does not mean that there is none.

This is an American fairytale. A once upon a time that seems eerily to remind of another Crowley, that codesigned the deck of Thoth tarot cards (A really good one for those curious) more than the writers of magical realism. And probably because I didn't read this in translation I preferred it to a hundred years of solitude. This may seem random to people of the fantasy crowd who know that genre is only a limitation to artistic merit if you want it to be (usually for cultural-political reasons). but people often compare this book to Gabriel Garcia Marquez's writing. And while they are both family chronicles with supernatural elements. this is kind of a shallow comparison.

Crowley's work is more in the tradition of an occult mystic, and Gabo is more a romantic using personal folklore as the vocabulary of that romantic expression (of which I think love in the time of cholera, is his masterpiece).

I am trying to not give away any spoilers, or even talk about specifics at all. but the ending is worth it. Like most things in life, it's your journey to go on so I won't ruin it for you, but they are out there waiting for you, where the lights never go out.

5, Neil Gaiman - The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

"words save our live's sometimes"

I was a frustrated borderline feral child, who could not deal with reality. My parents taught me how to read and not much else. I was homeschooled and weighed three hundred pounds by the time I was thirteen. I remember one night unable to deal with any more abuse that I laid down and decided my dreams would have to be enough, I close my eyes and went away for a long time. Lettie Hempstock's ocean is real to me I almost drowned in it.

When I was a teenager the cult-like fundamentalist atmosphere of my home life became less extreme, but the damage was done. I was still in the ocean. it says something about my state of mind that the closest I came to getting traction on reality was starting a habit of reading insistently, my favorite book was Stardust by Neil Gaiman.

Once on Twitter, I told him "thank you" for writing it. I later after reading this book I wrote a short review of this book and sent it to him. He said "thank you" to me in a @ mention. It was nice. I later @ mentioned him in a playfully sarcastic way and he deleted his original comment.

I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when I was twenty-four or twenty-five. I have been told I had childhood-onset schizophrenia. I have been told I milk it. I have been told that I self isolate.

I have been writing reviews tonight, going through my favorite books, and just live streaming my mind. Thinking about how they made me feel and what they make me think. Neil Gaiman's work always makes my brain retreat on itself. Possibly because of stardust. But more than that it is the wisdom he has. He knows that stories are true in a way that transcends a mere list of facts. communicating for those with an ear to listen that there is more than what we know, there is more than our understanding, there is more than us. More than you, more than me. There is an ocean that is healing for some while necessarily absent for others.

We forget, and we remember. Each other and ourselves. Cruelty and innocence. But there is an ocean and it is Lettie Hempstock's.

#literature #gothic literature #top 5 anything #top 5 list #top five novels #top 5 novels #fiction #literary criticism #literary critique #fantasy #scififantasy #western #postmodern #thomas pynchon #john crowley #neil gaiman #jim dodge #cormac mccarthy

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 2

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,249

Before you ventured into Westview, a flight of birds overhead reminded you of Redwing and Sam. Poor Sam. That sixth sense you had told you that fight at the compound was going to lead you all into very weird places. And the first one left you very squarely not in the room once again.

This time it was Steve and Bucky being thick as thieves, and you and Sam were…making a sandwich run? Couldn’t exactly get GrubHub to make a delivery to an attack site, could you? Bruce did not want some driver with a cellphone putting video up on Snapchat. “How would that look?” he bemoaned as he worked on the time travel platform. “We’d be getting tourists left and right. I don’t need that.” So off you and Sam went.

“You know, you could just, you know,” Sam started to say as he waved his hands like he thought a wizard would do, “and just poof up a plate of stuff. Right? With extra food for Banner, of course. He inhales tacos like nobody’s business. Just ask Tic Tac.”

“Sam, what have I told all of you before? Magic is the transfer of energy and matter. No suitable food stuff means no sandwiches. I can’t just think about the deli counter at Wegman’s and make a sandwich and a side of coleslaw appear in my hand. So, we’ll order on the app and pick it up. Just like everyone else. Before I hit the button, any changes to your order?”

“No, it’s fine. But don’t tell me you’ve never done shit like that when you’ve had your back against it,” Falcon huffed as you went to the rental car you’d gotten earlier in the day. That, thank Heaven, was easy to get at the local but extremely small airport.

“I’ve killed small rodents and eaten them, and I don’t mean just rabbits. Snakes, too. And, well, birds of prey, like falcons,” you groaned as you started to get into the car, but you stopped and headed back to the passenger side. “And I know you hate my driving, so here you go,” you said as you handed Sam the keys. “Sorry it isn’t a Ferrari. I was lucky to get this Kia. They didn’t exactly have anything race course worthy.”

As Sam climbed in, he saw bags of gear in the back seat. “You pulling a Wanda? Need some me time away from all us testosterone jockeys? Cyborg is going to be pissed.”

“Bucky has other stuff to deal with, trust me,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “He does not need to add Crazy Old Broad to his growing list of things to do and people to take care of this week. I heard him talking to Steve…”

“You? Eavesdropping? You are human!” Sam smirked, but then he saw the comment had hit a nerve. “You know I was kidding, right?”

“I know you are,” you said as you swallowed hard. In reality, you were not exactly buying that last comment. Sam was a sweetheart, but his comment sounded like things Tony and Steve had said about you in the weeks before the Time Heist. It depended on the situation, but one or the other of them seemed to question you, your motives, your powers and what they could do, and, at times, your grasp on reality. You did have a connection to a goddess they couldn’t see. Blaming them for having those questions just was not in your wheelhouse. “And yeah, maybe I just need to go figure a few things out. You guys know how to get me back here if you need me.”

“Somehow I don’t think Steve, Bucky and I would look so great standing and screaming your name in the middle of a fight,” Sam noted as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

“Now who is having issues with gender roles?” you said with a very pronounced side glance. “Sam, we are all human. We all need a save now and then. Maybe you’ll never have to utter my name again after today, unless you guys can’t find something you think I hid? Thor will be back once he’s done exploring the universe, and you can always get him here fast if you have Strange find him. And Wong is just dying for his shot as a full time Avenger. We all know that! And I can go back and do, well, goddess stuff, I guess. And raise horses. Just, please, make sure no one drops the ball on Parker. He lost his parents and his uncle. Losing Tony will hit him harder than anyone likely expects. He’s a good kid. He just needs support and guidance. Now, want to get this thing moving, or do you want me to drive?”

“And have you antagonize the local cops by going Mach 1? No thank you!”

You had to laugh at that one. You did tend to floor it. A lot.

++++++++++

A short time later, you and Sam rolled back to the site Bruce had chosen to set up the time travel platform. After you two handed out all the food, you realized it was really time for you to get going. No, you didn’t have a train, plane or bus to catch or someone to meet. You just knew it was going to get harder to make the break the longer you stayed there.

“She’s pulling a Wanda on us,” Sam said as he finished off the last of the sweet tea he had grabbed at the deli where you’d gotten food. “I think it’s too much he-man macho stuff, but she won’t fess up to that.”

“Wilson, how many brothers did I have?” you asked as you cleaned up the trash from the table Bruce had borrowed from a local park that had been wrecked during the battle. It had a huge hole in the end, but hey, it was good enough for the moment.

“Eight,” Bucky replied before Sam got the chance. “Just don’t quiz me on all their names. I remember your twin, Branan, and the one who was the vampire. Ewan? Right?”

“Yup, that’s right,” you grinned at Buck. “And no quiz. Promise,” you said as you raised your left hand and crossed your heart with your right.

“Why are you leaving?” Bruce asked as he adjusted the sling on his still injured arm, putting extra emphasis on the word “are” as he uttered it. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bruce, heaven help him, was suddenly one of the last active OG Avengers standing on Earth. Thor was off finding himself with the Guardians, and no one could really begrudge him that. He needed time to heal, and you knew all too well that was not easy nor time limited. Clint had more or less retired again after Natasha’s sacrifice on Vormir. Steve was getting ready to take the stones back, but upon his return, he’d likely join up with Sam and Bucky again to root out any remaining Hydra cells. That left Bruce in a very different place this time around.

“Bruce, you don’t really need me being a head case. Trust me. You do not need me giving any news outlets ammunition to blast headlines that make the team look less than spotless. I need to go home, at least for a little while,” you replied, knowing full well you were not telling him or the others everything. “And as I reminded Sam, you guys can just call me, and I’ll be here. Just whisper my name. Or yell it. Whatever works. Text me! If it’s an emergency, and if I’m not in the middle of some new damned war on my end, I’ll come running. But I have a feeling you guys are going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll give you a blessing before I head out.”

Yeah. A blessing. More like the final nail in the coffin. The words to start the spell to make them forget you.

“Big guy, you first,” you said as you put your hands on Bruce’s injured right arm. “And no, I am doing this, Bruce. It won’t be a full healing, but it should speed things up. You got this, big guy. Biggest brain. Biggest heart. May you realize just how much this team was built with your sweat and tears as it was anyone else’s.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Bruce asked as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and pout a bit. “And I am not asking because you are likely the only one of us who can cook…”

“I’m pretty sure all of you guys can cook something. Maybe not a good Colcannon or a fine Dublin coddle, but you’ll survive. As for the cupcakes, you guys may need to get a bakery on speed dial,” you added with a laugh because you knew they’d make that bakery rich. The Avengers loved their sugary snacks.

“Just don’t bug my sister, Bruce,” Sam noted as he waited for you to come over to him. “I still remember asking why the Cupcake Lady had a sword that night when those demon things attacked near the tower. I never asked. Why the cupcakes?”

“And not why the demons or the sword?” you said as you nearly choked on your words. “You realize that was before Steve saw me at Peggy’s funeral. That night was truly a fluke, Sam. No one was supposed to see that side of me then. As for the cupcakes, they were my entry to your world. Gifts from a fan girl. They’re easy to carry, a synch to personalize when needed, and everyone can have their own without fighting,” you said with a grin as Sam shook his head. “What?”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“Then I am in good company. Tell her the good stuff you’ve told me all these years. The words of wisdom. The little jokes. The pep talks. Tell her often. A single mom with two boys needs that. Be there for her, and drag these guys to see her, too. It would do the boys a world of good to have all their uncles stop by. Now, Samuel,” you said as you gave him a hug, “remember to keep these guys flying right. And if the world drops opportunity in your lap, whatever it might be, do not look at it and push it away without a lot of thought. The world needs Sam Wilson, the hero with a heart.”

And now the hardest part of this good bye had you wiping tears from your eyes. “I know. I’m a big mush. Girls from Brooklyn would laugh at me for this, right? Sorry, but girls from Naas and Athy do cry sometimes. I’m going to miss you two lugs. A lot.”

“Lugs. Last time you called us that was in ’43,” Bucky said as he looked down at his feet for a minute. “Somehow Hydra missed that memory.”

“You’ll see us again,” Steve said as he turned briefly to see where the case with the stones was on the platform. “But this time, it better not take 70 years.”

As you looked at the best friends, something about their auras seemed off. They had been planning something when you almost walked in on their chat a few days ago. You had no idea what it was, and you suddenly didn’t want to hang around to find out what the next act was going to bring.

“Just…watch your back, Steve. From what Clint said about Vormir, that one is going to be tough. And Buck, whatever comes next, I’m rooting for you. Even if you can’t see me doing it.”

“You really don’t have to leave,” Bruce kept insisting as you hefted your backpack on your shoulder.

“Dr. Banner, do you really want to fight my demons after all this? I have enemies. You just haven’t seen them yet. Frankly, the only reason that Hydra didn’t grab me before I hooked up with the Howling Commandos was because I was pulled into another dimension by one of those enemies. It was only by some weird twist of fate that Peggy found me when she did. If the veil between worlds had not been so thin near that camp, I might never have made it back, or Hydra might have found me first. It was pure dumb luck.”

{{And, Heaven help me, part of it was these two lugs over here}} you thought as you turned to head to your car. Then you stopped. This was a lot harder than it had been any time before, but it was the curse of an immortal to have to keep moving on. “I wish you luck, joy and happiness. I wish you peace. And, if you are truly lucky, memories long enough to have little space to spare for the likes of me because they are filled with so much more! See you in my dreams, for now anyway, fellas.”

++++++++++

You rolled out of there before Steve started his mission to return the stones, and you got a text from Bruce hours later telling you everything that had happened. Steve not coming back as planned. Then an older version of Steve shows up, sitting on a bench near the platform, and he gives Sam the shield. Right in front of Bucky.

It was now weeks later. No. It was months later, and here you were staring up at the sign for Westview. You’d gotten out of your rental car so you could get a feeling for the area around this little town.

“You made it back,” a voice said behind you. “How are you, after all that mess with Wanda and that Agatha woman? She was a real piece of work.”

The person speaking to you was Dr. Darcy Lewis. Friend of Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Why was she even here?

You couldn’t fully figure out what the hell she was talking about. You didn’t remember being here before. Yet, you knew who she was, and you had never met her before. Or at least you couldn’t remember meeting her, here or anywhere else.

“Apparently not as great as I thought I was,” you muttered as you winced again. “Dr. Lewis, how long ago was the blip?”

“Give or take a week, about six months ago,” she replied as you started to pace. “Why?”

“Shit. Not this again,” you hissed as you looked up at the sign once more. “I think I’m going to need your help. How much do you know about Celtic myths and Irish history, Dr. Lewis?”

#mcu #mcu oc #sam wilson x oc #bucky barnes x oc #bruce banner x oc #steve rogers x oc #the avengers #thor odinson #jane foster #darcy lewis #wanda maximoff #oc x canon #stephen strange #wong mcu #peggy carter #my oc writing #oc #my ocs are my babies #avengers imagine #avenger x oc

[alia-turin]

Extra special kudos to @golden-olea, I hope I did it justice, if not, I’m so sorry. extra extra kudos to @challengeofthedark for keeping with my craziness and not crying every time I say Caranthir. 

Fic Name: Feed Your Anger Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Characters: Eredin, Caranthir, Avallac’h, Imlerith  Warning: Angst, violence AO3: Click Summary:   Couple of months after Caranthir joined the Red Riders, Eredin takes it upon himself to increase the rift between the navigator and Avallac'h by forcing them into a fight with each other. Caranthir is still young, trying to prove himself to Eredin and pull away from Avallac'h.

“Again.” Eredin said as he watched Caranthir take a deep breath and launch his next attack probably fully confident that this time he would break his opponent’s defence. The leader for the Red Riders parried without an issue. “Again.”

Their little sword sparring sessions had started a couple of months ago when Caranthir had passed his trial. The boy had amazing talent for magic, but he was terrible with swords. Truth be told, Eredin did not care much if Caranthir could use a sword or not, his job was not to be a swordsman, he was his Navigator, but there was certain discipline in swordsmanship and Eredin wanted to spend more time with the younger man.

“Again” Caranthir’s attack had been blocked and he could feel the frustration growing in him. He was good at everything he had ever tried. Sure, he had not tried that much from life, but he had no reason to believe that things would not work his way. However, their little training sessions had helped him grow closer to Eredin and that he appreciated. He was never going to admit that, but he admired the man. Probably the same way he had admiredAvallac’h as a child, but that was also something he would never admit. Eredin however did not treat him as a child, he did call him ‘boy’ and ‘kid’ occasionally, and that bothered Caranthir but not to the degree Avallac’h’s disapproving looks had bothered him. Still bothered him.

“Faster.” Eredin smiled after a very fast attempt from Caranthir. The boy was stubborn if nothing else. At first he had not cared about Avallac’h’s little experiment. Crevan had been convinced that his play with genetics and selective breeding would solve all of their problems. Eredin really wanted that to be true, but then he saw the failures, the navigators that were just decent, the ones that could barely make it and he had given up. Avallac’h had called Caranthir his Golden Child in front of Auberon, but all the leader of the Red Riders could do when he had heard that was to laugh. Until he saw Caranthir pass the trials. Nobody had done it faster than that, minus a minor wound on his shoulder, the boy had performed better than anyone. Eredin had been intrigued and Avallac’h had been disappointed which made it even sweeter.

Caranthir made a step back after another unsuccessful go at Eredin. The man had hundreds of years on him, but if they were using magic, the Navigator would have won by now. It was unusual for him to lose, even if it was just practice.

“Your eyes betray you, kid.” Imlerith was leaning against the nearby castle wall. For some reason unknown to Eredin, his general had taken interest in partially adopting Caranthir as a younger brother. Eredin did not mind. Imlerith was loyal and even if he was not the sharpest tool he had, there were certain qualities that the two of them could learn from each other. “By the time you attack, he has already read your move.”

Eredin was going to offer his own words of wisdom, something to send Caranthir in rage, that was another issue he had to deal with. The boy was impulsive, he needed him more controlled, more calculating. Imlerith was the blunt object that he used as his angry attack dog. Caranthir was too smart and too special to be used as a mindless tool of destruction. Eredin’s snarky comment never left his lips as he saw Crevan nearby watching them. The navigator had already seen the Sage as his focus was no longer on Eredin, but on his old mentor.

Caranthir could see the disapproval in his teacher’s eyes. He was not sure if it was the sword or just the company he was keeping, didn’t really matter. He was done with trying to please Avallac’h although he did wonder what he made out of his little training with Eredin. He couldn’t fight the feeling that despite everything Avallac’h was the closest he had to a family and so far he also had been the greatest betrayal he had ever felt. But he had a new family now and he was not going to allow anyone to hurt him the way Avallac’h had. Never again.

There had been something interesting and very annoying that was happening between the two of them when they saw each other. Caranthir’s whole body language changed and his eyes burned with fire that Eredin didn’t see even during a battle. On the other hand Avallac’h looked hurt. It had taken the leader of the Red Riders some time to figure out what was going on there, but after spending some time with Caranthir, he had solved the puzzle. The boy never had anyone but Avallac’h, no friends, no family, nothing. Eredin would probably shove his sword in his own throat if Crevan was his only option for socialization, but Caranthir did not really have a choice. He wanted the man’s approval as much as he wanted to prove to him that he was better and did not need him. Avallac’h was a bit harder to figure out, but one thing Eredin knew for certain was that he wanted the rift between these two to grow even wider.

“Crevan, why don’t you join us?” Eredin stuck the tip of his sword in the ground and leaned forward.

Avallac’h did not respond but his gaze looked from Eredin to Caranthir and then back to Eredin.

“I am rather curious to know who is better, the father or the son.” Eredin smirked. Avallac’h shifted his weight between his feet and Caranthir took a very deep breath loudly.

“My money is on the son.” Imlerith had pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, his hands were also resting on his mace. Caranthir’s money was also on himself, he was better, he had known that for some time now and he was eager to show it especially in front of Eredin. Hurting Avallac’h the way he was hurting would just be a welcomed bonus.

“You will remain curious.” Avallac’h said and started walking away, but Eredin’s words stopped him.

“I truly don’t understand why you are so upset. He was meant to be a navigator, one of the Red Riders, his place was always supposed to be here with me.” Eredin spoke casually, he was just stating a well-known fact, something that had been clear since before Caranthir was born. Avallac’h had been determined to keep this fact from becoming a reality, it had been years since he had decided the boy would not become another tool for Eredin. Caranthir had made his choice, and Avallac’h had failed.

Caranthir watched as his mentor took a deep breath and his jaw clenched. He had seen that reaction before, every time he messed up, every time he did something Avallac’h disapproved of and usually there was some sort of punishment involved. Eredin was taunting his teacher, he had no idea why, but he could see the words were starting to have some effect.

“Then I wish both of you all the best.” Avallac’h managed to shake off whatever had taken over him and tried to walk away but Eredin had not finished. He spoke once again..

“Crevan. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sure it was not easy to separate with your life’s work, you raised the kid after all. That must have been painful. Almost as painful as being left by Lara.” Eredin knew that would sting and he was not wrong. This time Avallac’h turned toward him with so much hate in his eyes, the leader of the Red Riders almost started laughing. That was easier than he thought. “I thought a lot about why are you so upset that the boy joined the Red Riders.” he really didn’t, he had paid no mind to it, but he had Avallac’h where he wanted him, Eredin had already stuck the knife and now it was time to twist. “I mean sure you were trying to recreate Lara’s genes, but did you perhaps hope for something more? Recreate Lara herself? Looking closely enough I can almost see some of her looks in him.. How much must it hurt you, Avallac’h, knowing that the woman you loved left you for a human and Caranthir left you for me. I always thought it was Lara, simply being attracted to something more...exotic. Pleasures of the flesh or curiosity. It is, after all, hard to believe anyone would prefer a human to one of us.” Eredin turned toward Caranthir, the boy’s expression was blank but he could see the clenched jaw and the ice cold eyes fixed on Avallac’h. “But maybe it is just you.” Eredin turned toward the sage with the best smirk he could muster. “Maybe Lara was just trying to run away from you, the poor woman. Looking at what you have done to the boy, who wouldn’t?”

Caranthir watched Avallac’h’s resistance dropping. The usual calmness and control on his face had just broken and he could see the man boiling from the inside with rage, he had never seen his mentor like that. He remembered as a child he had seen a picture of Lara and he had asked about her, Avallac’h had snapped at him. Caranthir had learned the story in his own way, but he had never mentioned the name. Was Eredin right? Was it even worse than he thought? He wasn’t just an experiment, Avallac’h monster, but he was an attempt for his teacher to recreate an old painful memory? Caranthir ran his fingers through the scars on his neck, they were not physically painful, but something in his head was burning with different sorts of hurt.

“How much of that did he tell you? You know about Lara?” Eredin asked, looking at Caranthir. From the way the young navigator glared at Avallac’h, he could only assume not much at all. Not really surprising. Avallac’h was not a liar, but he also wasn’t a forthcoming man, especially about things that were painful to him. Eredin continued glaring at the Sage “You never cared about the boy, did you, Crevan? That’s fine, he has nowfound friends, someone who does not see him just as a tool.” he saw Caranthir’s jaw clench and he could swear he heard him grind his teeth. “It has always been about you and you alone. Your ambitions, your power, your influence.” He looked Avallac’h in the eye...he was going to enjoy what followed... “Honestly, who can blame Lara?” he spoke the last sentence slowly making sure every word was like another knife stuck in his chest.

The Sage made a step forward, honestly Eredin didn’t feel like the man wanted to attack him, although his body language had changed drastically from the usual calm and controlled deminior. Caranthir however had been itching to launch at Avallac’h and just a small movement from him was enough.

The Navigator took a second to get to his staff and in the next moment he was right in front of his mentor.

“Caranthir…” whatever Avallac’h was about to say was interrupted by an attack he had to deflect. Then another one and another one.

Eredin had found that watching mages fight was somehow impressive and boring at the same time. The power was extraordinary and breathtaking, but he always preferred to look his enemy in the eye as he shoved his sword in their gut or separated their head from their body.

Caranthir moved with impressive speed and his mentor had only been deflecting until the boy sent him flying against a nearby wall.

Avallac’h got up and touched the back of his head as if looking for blood. “Caranthir, stop.” His voice was clipped.

“He is not yours to command, Crevan.” Eredin shouted, trying his best to hide his excitement. “He is his own man. What have you done to him, to be hated so much?”

Caranthir attacked again and Avallac’h blocked, but this time the man followed with an attack and the Navigator was forced to defend himself. Avallac’h had not wanted to do that, he was angry at Eredin, and while he was not sure whether he would have attacked the leader of the Red Riders or found some self control, at this point it didn’t matter. He wasn’t angry at Caranthir, but if it was a fight he wanted, he was going to give him one. There were enough unresolved issues between them that would certainly not be solved with a few bruises, but then again, he did not know if at this point there was any way to solve them at all. But perhaps this fight was what they needed, Caranthir in particular. Perhaps the boy would reconsider his actions.... Another attack followed, more dangerous and then another one, the Navigator was serious, he was not just trying to resolve whatever tension was between them. That was when he realized Caranthir was not just trying to protect Eredin--not that he needed protection in the first place - he was trying to kill Avallac’h. The way he attacked, the rage and the power were more than he had seen him ever use.

Eredin was enjoying that far too much, he could see Caranthir’s youth and impulsiveness playing against him, whereas Avallac’h’s fighting style was controlled and very measured, in spite of his anger. Caranthir, however, was like a storm. Powerful, capable of destruction that could solve many problems in a matter of moments and create others equally fast. True, the navigator was more powerful than even Eredin had anticipated at first, but he was inexperienced. It didn’t matter though, he had figured that on day one and he was going to correct it, he just needed a bit of time. Teaching violence was something he knew how to do.

It was Caranthir’s turn to find himself on the ground, but Avallac’h was beyond words now. He was about to attack again when Eredin moved between the two of them.

“That’s enough.” He placed a hand on Avallac’h chest and the man looked at him with a murderous glare. “As much as I would enjoy watching that, you two will destroy the castle.” He pointed around them, stone had been cracked and the ground had some newfound holes that had not been there before. Avallac’h snapped out of it but Caranthir was not done. The boy jumped on his feet and moved toward his mentor but Eredin turned around quickly and blocked the navigator’s body with his own. “His day will come, and when that happens, I promise you, he will suffer more than anything you can inflict on him now.” Eredin was leaning forward and whispering in Caranthir’s ear.

“I can inflict a lot.” Caranthir had not felt so much anger since he found Avallac’h lab and all his notes. His rage needed an outlet and killing his teacher seemed like an excellent choice.

“No, you want him to suffer, you don’t want him to hurt. You want him to suffer the way you do.” Eredin stepped back and moved away the strands of hair that were covering Caranthir’s scars. The navigator snapped out of it and stepped back, not wanting his scars to be shown.

“Come on, kid.” Imlerith placed a hand on Caranthir’s shoulder. “Leave the grown ups to talk.”

Eredin watched as the Navigator was almost dragged away and then turned to Avallac’h. The man’s demeanor had changed, he was calm now, but there was still fire in his eyes.

“I hope you got what you wanted.” Crevan said as he cleared some dust from his robes. “I should have known better.”

“You should have.” Eredin chuckled.

Avallac’h walked away, he already had one fight, he was not following Eredin’s play again today. He was still angry, mostly at himself, he should have not fallen for that trap and it had been obviously a trap. Now he was seeing it, Eredin was trying to create a rift between Caranthir and him, not that this relationship needed Eredin’s help to be destroyed. Somewhere deep down Avallac’h wished things were different. Maybe he even hoped that one day once Caranthir matured the two of them could talk and he could explain. But based on the storm he had seen in Caranthir’s eyes, he doubted this day would come any time soon.

#eredin breacc glas #caranthir #avallac'h #crevan espane aep caomhan macha #my writing #fan fiction #the withcer